The Island
by Masterdramon
Summary: It's the summer of '97, and the Labyrinth Clan is preparing to welcome the newest member of its family. But the firstborn child of two mutates is bound to attract some unwanted attention. Soon enough, Dr. Sevarius' latest scheme may be the least of their worries, as an unseen watcher chooses this moment to strike...and to spirit the entire "birthing party" to his mysterious island.
1. Episode I: Cytosine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode I: Cytosine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **The University of Oxford, Oxford, England**

 **July 6, 1976 A.D.**

"I'll be blunt, Anton," said the head of the doctoral committee. "We are _not_ accepting this dissertation. The only question is whether to reject it under the grounds of being a spectacular flight of fancy…or, on the off-chance you're actually serious about this, for disregarding even the most _fundamental_ ethical considerations."

Graduate student Anton Sevarius, dressed in a suit and tie so ill-fitting on him they looked like a skin he couldn't wait to shed, quietly seethed in his chair.

"I won't speak to the 'ethics' of the matter," he rumbled, tossing off the word as it was a vile curse. "But I assure you, my proposals are _firmly_ grounded in reality. With just a little bit more funding I could…"

"Reality? The reality of science _fiction,_ perhaps," another member, his own undergraduate biology professor, cut him off. "Look, Anton…I like you. You're undeniably brilliant. But for as long as we've known each other, your head's been in the clouds. And not the most pleasant of clouds, either."

"A century ago, airplanes, television, and the cure for polio were _also_ science fiction," replied Anton haughtily. "And my work dwarfs _those_ discoveries by a factor incalculable."

The third member of the committee, a woman a fair bit younger than her fellows, looked on thoughtfully at this exchange, but didn't say anything.

Instead, the head spoke up again, waving a hand dismissively. "Enough of this tripe," he said. "We have eight other candidates to get through today. I'm not wasting any more time on this lunatic."

"Now, Milton," cautioned the second man. "Don't you think that's a little har…"

But he was interrupted as Anton abruptly leapt to his feet, sending his chair clattering to the ground.

"How dare you? How _dare_ you?!" he demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger in the committee head's face. "You feeble, insignificant, decrepit little peons. Throw your gray matter together in a blender and hit frappé, and you _still_ wouldn't measure up to a single percent of _my_ brainpower! You know how they say, 'those who can't _do,_ teach'? Well it appears that aphorism needs some work, because clearly _you_ three can't do either!"

The committee was speechless as Anton came down from his rant, his shoulders rising and falling with each, heavy breath.

Then, his hands folded together, the committee head calmly leaned forward.

"Might I suggest, Anton…" he told the student, his voice level. "A change in majors. Clearly, the theatre is where your _true_ talents lie."

And with that, he quietly shoved the entire dissertation off the desk between them.

Thousands of pages fell to Anton's feet in a cascading heap. His meticulously crafted notes and charts were strewn about the floor, jumbled utterly out of order. Finally, drifting down with almost comical slowness, the title page landed on top of it all.

 _On the Refinement of Techniques for Accomplishing Radical Cellular Alteration through Vivisection, by Way of Recent Advances in the Engineering of Genetic Code_

"I…I see…" said Anton, kneeling down to begin the long, laborious process of reassembling his masterwork. "So it seems you reduce me to yet another cliché. The brilliant visionary, shunned by lesser minds, unable to appreciate his genius. Socrates, Galileo…I suppose I should be _proud_ to add the name 'Sevarius' to such an esteemed list."

The two men on the committee, however, weren't listening to his muttered invective. Indeed, they'd already left the room.

Anton continued on for several moments, before he was surprised to see a stack of papers being offered to him.

"I believe these are in the correct order," declared the final committee member, a brunette woman in a lab coat. She was also on her knees. "And quite fascinating, to boot."

"Really, now?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Then was there a reason you didn't say that _during_ my defense?"

"It wouldn't have done any good, I'm afraid," she responded with a shake of her head. "Besides, I don't necessarily disagree with their points. Your work _is_ fanciful, as well as… _dubious,_ at best, in the ethical department. And, putting that aside…it is _also_ fascinating."

"As if it's possible to revolutionize the world _without_ an appetite for drama, or a rejection of such small-minded constraints," said Anton. "You know, the notes I used as a basis have been sitting there in the library, untouched, for over half a century. Damned fools. As if being associated with Oxford's most infamous expulsion makes his papers somehow contagious."

"An interesting perspective," she remarked, as they continued to pick up pages. "Given what he's most famous for today."

The graduate student made a scoffing noise with his tongue.

"A meaningless, fantastic screed. No more accurate than Stoker's account of Vlad III," he tossed off, lip curled. "Clearly, Wells read the same notes. And then, knowing nothing of biology himself, he imagined a scenario in which they were realized to an utterly impossible extent. His hypotheses _were_ sound – as a baseline. But his crude methodologies would've killed any subject _long_ before he reached that point."

"And you believe _you_ are capable of bridging that gap?" she murmured coolly. "With cutting-edge genetics?"

"That, and about half a billion pounds," answered Anton. "You know, give or take. Money holds little value to me for its own sake, but the avenues of research available without it are… _limited._ "

"I suppose that is the case. At least in the present era," she said, a strange distance to her tone. Not for the first time, he got the distinct sense there was a great deal this woman wasn't telling him. "Well, if that's all you require…I may have some suggestions."

She fished a business card from her pocket, and handed it over with another thick stack of documents.

"My husband and I are…taking something of a break, at the moment. But I know he's presently recruiting for talent," she continued on. "Perhaps you'll find better fortune in America. Land of opportunity, as they say. I'm sure you can find a university there willing to help you finish your doctorate. And after that…"

She tapped the face of the card with one finger, and whispered, "Consider giving us a call."

Anton looked upon the card, and the woman, for several moments. Then, his mouth broke out into a grin – though it could perhaps better be described as a leer.

"Enchanté, Madame Renard," he told her, with a bowed head of respect. "I think this might well be the start of a beautiful relationship."

"Please," she said, as she handed him the last few pages of his dissertation, and then rose to her feet with an almost queenly grace. "Call me Anastasia."

[-]

 **The Labyrinth, New York City, United States**

 **June 7, 1997 A.D.**

"Appreciate you being here for me and Derek, big guy," muttered Elisa Maza, as the two of them made their way through the winding tunnels of Cyberbiotics' abandoned underground base. "Particularly given the, erm… _history_ you two have."

"Your clan is about to welcome a new life into its ranks, Elisa," replied Goliath, just as quietly. "That makes the child clan with us as well. I would not miss this for any reason."

"I think Derek and Maggie'll appreciate that," she said. "Family…always makes these things easier."

A few seconds later, the pair entered one of the larger chambers of the Labyrinth proper, a former research station converted into dwelling space for about two hundred homeless.

Several of the longer-term residents, who were rather used to neighbors with wings at this point, offered friendly waves. Elisa and Goliath returned them, if a bit awkwardly in the latter case.

"I can never be certain whether I am performing these gestures properly," he confided in her, as his broad arm fell back to his side. "In some ways, I welcome how adept humans of this era have become at non-verbal communication. But the various facets can get… _confusing._ "

"It's something you just get used to, I think," spoke Elisa's voice, though it did not come from her. Instead, a hybrid-gargoyle stepped away from a crowd playing poker, providing her own brisk wave. "Certainly has its advantages with Malibu and the others. For one thing, you don't have to worry about verbs."

"Delilah. It is good to see you," said Goliath, clasping her in a very brief warrior's handshake.

Elisa also shook the clone's claw, though their contact was even shorter. While she tried not to show it, there probably would never be a time in which interacting with Delilah wasn't at least a _little_ uncomfortable.

"I expect you two are here for Talon," the clone continued on, her tones clipped and businesslike, though not unfriendly. "You'll want the passageway back there, third door on the right. Cyberbiotics had an old med-bay we were able to retrofit."

"Thanks," responded Elisa, her eyes following the arc of Delilah's outstretched talon. Then, trying to be casual, she gestured toward the mix of humans and cloned gargoyles playing cards. "How's the game going, by the way?"

Delilah made a face halfway between a grin and a grimace. "Depends on how you look at it," she told the policewoman. "Burbank in particular seems to have a real knack for these things, but…"

She was interrupted by the bearded clone proudly proclaiming, "Burbank have four crown-men. That good hand!"

All the surrounding humans immediately groaned and folded.

Elisa chuckled. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of a proper poker face eventually," she said. "Anyway, it was nice catching up, but we should go check in on the parents-to-be."

"Let Boss-Cat know we're here if he needs anything!" called out Al, who was looking very grateful he'd sat out the last pot. "I got a bunch of ice and towels from the surface a few hours ago, but if she's starting to run low…"

There was a general chatter of assent among the gathered homeless, many of them quite enthusiastically.

Both Elisa and Goliath nodded their gratitude. As they proceeded toward the door Delilah had indicated, the purple gargoyle whispered, "It really is quite… _gratifying._ To see how they rally around your brother. He truly has grown into an exceptional clan leader."

"He gives them hope. A lot of these people haven't had that in a long time," she explained. "He and Maggie starting a family, even after everything that happened to them…that _means_ something to these guys. And hey – human or gargoyle, rich or poor, _everyone_ gets excited for a new baby."

As they neared their destination, Elisa had to stop short to avoid being bowled over by a man in a heavy trench coat, scarf hiding most of his face. He coughed out a quick, gravelly apology, then continued on as if nothing had happened.

"Well… _almost_ everyone," she added with a shrug.

[-]

They immediately knew they had the right door when they saw Claw standing outside of it, holding vigil with his zapping arm at the ready. Derek clearly wasn't taking any chances on this night…and given the Labyrinth's recent history, Elisa couldn't honestly blame him.

Still, the mutate visibly relaxed when he saw who was approaching. He grinned toothily and flashed two big thumbs-up – which, given his tiger-like face, was probably intended to look a lot less scary than it came off.

"Hey, Claw," said Elisa, returning the thumbs-up. "Ready to be an honorary uncle?"

Claw nodded eagerly, miming swathing a baby in his heavily muscled arms. The detective was struck again by just how dramatically the impending birth seemed to have impacted the atmosphere down here. Nowhere was that more apparent than with the mute mutate, who looked more cheerful now than she'd _ever_ seen him.

After Claw and Goliath clasped arms, the tiger-like mutate opened the door for them, exposing a small medical lab hastily converted into a birthing suite. Three other mutates were in the room, and all raised their arms in greeting – though one, understandably, a bit weakly.

"Sis! God, I'm glad you could make it. And you too, big guy," exclaimed Talon, though he didn't get up from his seat at the bedside. Once of his hands was laced tightly around Maggie's. "I was beginning to think none of the fam would be here for this."

"Bad timing all around," replied his sister, commiserating as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Water just _had_ to break when dad was visiting Beth in Phoenix, and mom was attending that conference in Prague. They're all flying in right now, of course, but…"

"But they're not going to make it in time. I know, it's fine," Maggie interjected, her breathing just a bit heavier than normal. "It's not like any of us could've predicted this. I'm four weeks early."

"Doc Shirakawa thinks the mutation might've affected the gestation period. But far as her tests have shown, the baby itself is healthy," Talon told them, though it was clear from his tone – and by the rings around his eyes – that he'd only fully believe that once the child was in his arms. "She's the OB Sato recommended. Al gave her office a call from a topside payphone, and she said she's on her way."

"And in the meantime," said Thug, who was setting up an oxygen tank with shocking dexterity, given his scaled fingers. "I'm pitchin' in best I can."

He must've caught the look of surprise on her face, because he then added, "Hey, don't let this handsome mug fool ya. I was actually a med student before, y'know… _all this._ Then I defaulted on my student loans, wound up on the streets, an'…"

The mutate let out a long, heavy sigh – which, given the size of his jaws, made for quite a sight.

"Well, I think ya get the picture," he finished, his voice light and casual once more. "Obviously I'm not licensed ta practice, but hopefully I can hold things together till the real doc arrives."

"And we appreciate it, Thug," stated Maggie warmly. "Thank you all for being here. It'd be…a _lot_ more difficult, otherwise."

"Are there no members of…your own clan…able to join you here?" asked Goliath, trying to phrase the question delicately.

Unfortunately, the darkening of her expression was answer enough.

"The only family I have left is my mom, back in Ohio," she responded. "We…didn't exactly part on the best of terms. She has no idea what…what happened to me. And I want it to stay that way."

A heavy silence fell over the room for several moments. It was broken only when a muffled voice cried out, "Yeah! I just totally skadooshed you, Erin!"

"That's not a word, Benny," said a slightly older, but still young voice. "Anyway, c'mon. Best two out of three."

"Oh yeah. Now that you're here, E…" murmured Thug, taking Elisa aside. "Mind if ya help me watch the tykes? I've got 'em in the other room there, playin' _Space Whackos._ But I could concentrate a lot more on Maggie's condition if I knew ya had an eye on the kids."

She let herself be led by the crocodile mutate over to a side room, where a glass window in the door allowed her a clear view of two more, much smaller mutates. They were hunched over an old television and a video game console, controllers held awkwardly in their altered hands.

"You've even got video games down here? Wow," she commented, impressed.

"Ya wouldn't believe what people jus' throw away in New York every day," he explained. "The TV's an antique, but the PlayStation's practically bran' new. Not that I'm complainin'. Those two…they deserve all the distractions they can get."

She'd heard, secondhand, that Sevarius' latest batch of mutates had included two young children, but she'd never had a chance to meet them before now. A surge of even greater hatred for the amoral geneticist bubbled up inside her.

"You take care of them?" she asked, voice soft.

Thug shrugged his reptilian shoulders. "Not like anybody else will," he said. "Never seen hide or hair o' the parents. They say their dad's a truck driver, but the bum definitely ain't here. Before the mutation, Tasha was kinda keepin' an eye on 'em, but…"

He looked askance, as if he'd mentioned something he shouldn't have.

"Anyway…" he went on, after a noticeable pause. "Mos' people down here aren't all that judgey, but…well, Benny especially. People dunno how ta react ta 'em. It's hard ta look at all that armor, an' still see the kids underneath. Obviously…it's easier for me than most."

Elisa looked on through the glass as they started up another round, unable to think of anything to say except, "They're lucky to have you, Thug."

Immediately after, however, she grimaced. "Sorry…is there anything else I can call you?" muttered the detective. "It's, err…kind of…"

Thug just chuckled. "Yeah, I know it's not the best o' nicknames," he admitted. "But it's what I looked like before I 'scaled up.' Back in the day, had a lotta fun playin' up the stereotype, jus' to send it crashin' down once I started talkin' medicine. And now…hey. All the other mutates have cool, one-word superhero names. 'Thug' works good as any."

But then, what was unmistakably a smile spread over his massive jaws, and he held out a hand.

"Still, if ya want a proper introduction…" he said, voice deep and rumbling but also incredibly gentle. "Then it's Richard. Richard K. Michaels."

She took his scaly hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Richard," she told him, meaning every word.

Having been a policewoman all her adult life, Elisa liked to think her instincts were just a bit sharper than the average joe's. There was a part of her, deep in the subconscious, that had an innate sense for when something wasn't right.

So by the time Goliath was shouting "Elisa!" her head was already turning toward the door, where the source of the clan leader's alarm became immediately obvious.

Some kind of gas was leaking into the med-bay, its hue a nasty green. After a beat, Elisa was even pretty sure she recognized it: the same kind Thailog had once used, capable of knocking out humans and gargoyles alike.

"Everyone, get away from the door!" she called out. "Derek, try to help Maggie up if you can!"

But it was too late. The gas, seeping through the cracks of the door, was already spreading too fast. She covered her mouth with her hand, and the others hastily did the same, but it wasn't enough.

Soon enough, her vision of the room began to sway.

Then, abruptly, the door was flung open. Claw fell to the ground from the other side, already unconscious.

And, framed in the doorway, stood a very familiar figure, bedecked in a white lab coat and wearing a gas mask over half his face.

"Well, well, well!" said Anton Sevarius, his voice alight with sick glee. "Isn't this the veritable smorgasbord of test subjects, old and new alike? Really, is there a single individual in this room whose DNA I _haven't_ taken under a microscope?"

"S…Sevarius…!" growled Goliath, his eyes burning white. But the gas already had him down on one knee, and the other was wobbling dangerously.

"Really, I'm hurt not to have been invited. Two of my creations, coming together to produce progeny of their own? This may well be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" he continued on, clearly relishing the chance to ham it up. "Why, from a certain point of view, you could call me this child's grandfather! And papa's got a few gifts for the little sunspot."

A syringe emerged from the mad doctor's pocket, which he casually flicked a few times with his finger.

On the ground, kneeling by his unconscious mate and mere seconds from collapse himself, Talon's eyes went wide.

"You…You _bastard!_ " he roared.

"Well, hopefully that _particular_ avenue won't be necessary," he said, ignoring the insult entirely. "But honestly, Derek, this was all quite foolish of you. I'll be blunt: I didn't design your new forms for procreation. It wasn't one of the client's parameters. So this child…it's a genetic roll of the dice, really. They could be fully human, or some blending of your mutated traits. Frankly, there's a better than normal chance they'll come out stillborn."

He knelt down by the panther-mutate, knowing he was unable to harm him.

"You _need_ me, if you want your offspring to live a healthy life," he told Talon. "But don't worry. Once mummy dearest has been transferred back to my lab, I'll take _very_ good care of them both."

Elisa, who'd been farthest from the gas when it started, was now the only one standing on both feet. As they finally began to give way, she chanced a final, woozy look around the room.

Maggie had been the first one to succumb completely – her bodily systems already so compromised – and now Derek had joined her. Goliath was still struggling valiantly to get back up, but it was no use.

To her side, Thug was trying to do the same, but his unique mutation meant covering his mouth was all but impossible. She managed to turn her head far enough back to peer into the side-room; to her horror, the gas had leaked in there as well, and both children were already out cold.

"Shoulda known…you'd live up…another cliché…" she mumbled, as the last ounce of strength left her, and she fell to the ground. "Shoulda decked…mysterious-guy-in-trench-coat…when I had the chance…"

"Trench coat? My dear, you wound me," said Sevarius, placing a hand to his chest in mock-offense. "That was the disguise I used when I was 'Fred.' And no proper thespian reuses a performance wholesale. _Tonight's_ was a birthday clown costume I'm actually quite proud of, thank you very much."

And with that, a pair of burly arms seized him from behind, yanking away his gas mask in one, rigid motion.

The source of the arms wasn't clear, covered as they were by the trench coat in question. But one thing was for certain about their hands: they _weren't_ human.

Sevarius took in a sharp gasp at this observation, which of course was a mistake. Within moments he was tumbling forward into a cloud of his own, specially designed gas.

The eyes of Elisa Maza and Anton Sevarius both closed at the same time, and then everything went black.

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

As the sun set down upon the horizon, lattices of cracks began to form along Goliath's stone skin. Finally, with an earsplitting roar, he burst forth from the temporary shell.

Unusually, he was alone in this, the only gargoyle in the vicinity. But that hardly meant he was devoid of sleeping companions.

Arrayed around him were the unconscious forms of five mutates – Talon, Claw, Thug, and the two children – as well as two ordinary humans. Elisa…

And Sevarius himself.

Goliath saw white again, briefly, but he tempered it down. There were far more pressing concerns right now…like figuring out where in the world they _were._

One thing was immediately obvious: they certainly weren't in the Labyrinth any longer. The starry sky above was plainly visible, and real earth and rock could be felt beneath his feet.

But this also didn't look like any place he'd ever seen in Manhattan. There were no cars or buildings to be seen in any direction. Only trees and shrubs and greenery. It was undeniably a beautiful sight, but it still unnerved him. How far _had_ they traveled while he was asleep?

Torn between the desire to explore further and the instinct to protect his fallen friends and family, Goliath split the difference and began working to rouse them one by one.

(All except Sevarius, of course.)

Some awoke more easily than others. They'd all fallen unconscious in states of extreme distress, and the first instinct upon waking was to resume fighting back. Goliath had to dodge a lightning blast from Claw and a snap of the jaws from Thug before they came back to their senses.

The mutated children, however, seemed to take all of this in remarkable stride.

"Hey, mister. You're that gurgle Talon's sister likes, right?" asked the boy, after he'd come back to himself. "I heard Talon got all angry about it."

"It's _gargoyle,_ Benny. Jeez, it's only in the papers like every single day," his sister corrected him, arms crossed in front of her leathery shell. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Erin, and the idiot is Benny. Do you know where we are right now?"

Claw could offer nothing but an exaggerated shrug. Thug simply stepped forward and held both children close.

Next was Elisa, who sputtered out something unintelligible but probably curse-laden before her self-awareness returned to her. Flushing a bit, she said, "You, uhh…didn't hear that just now, big guy. Anyway, what happened? Last I remember…"

One Goliath had explained, for the third time in a row, that her guess was as likely as his, they both turned to the final unconscious mutate.

"We're gonna have to do this… _carefully,_ " she said, frowning at her brother. "He's not gonna be happy when he wakes up – putting it _mildly_ – and you know Derek's not exactly the champion of self-control at the best of times."

"Lemme give it a try," offered Thug, moving both kids behind himself. "If he lashes out, I got one heckuva thick hide. I can take it."

But Claw held him back with one silent…well, claw. To both Thug and Goliath, he shook his head, before stepping over to stand above Talon.

Then he seized his leader by the shoulders, and began to shake him as hard as possible.

Claw took the predictable discharges of electricity and incoherent snarls of rage in stride, simply waiting out his fellow mutate until his senses returned. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw upon doing so didn't exactly help matters.

" _Sevarius!_ " he bellowed, one hand already lighting up with another discharge as he stood over the unconscious scientist. "Oh, I'm going to _enjoy_ this!"

"Not yet, Derek!" said Elisa, leaping between them. "Haven't you noticed there's someone _missing_ from our group?"

A beat passed. Then, the electricity abruptly dissipated, as if it was a candle that got snuffed out.

"Maggie…" he whispered, his heart breaking utterly over just those two syllables. "What…What'd he _do_ with her…?

"We do not yet know, Talon," answered Goliath, his wings folded over his shoulders like a cape. "So we should not respond in haste. Now that he is fully outnumbered, I believe it will be safe to wake him for questioning."

Talon still didn't look pleased, but ultimately nodded his assent. Taking that as her cue, Elisa derived a fair amount of pleasure in being the one to rouse Anton Sevarius…

Via a good, strong right hook.

" _Ow!_ Blasted bloody betacoronavirus…" he moaned, rubbing at his soon-to-be-swollen jaw. Claw took this opportunity to seize him by both wrists and force them above his head, affixing him with a growl that managed to come off utterly menacing despite being completely silent.

By this point, Sevarius had managed to take in enough of his surroundings to realize just what kind of a predicament he was in.

"Alright, I'm going to wager that if I call for the mercenaries I brought into the Labyrinth with me, they _won't_ come running," he said. "And here I was, stringing them along with the promise of becoming _real_ scorpion mutates. It was a win-win, honestly. I don't have to waste any of my own funds paying them, _and_ I get five new test subjects for refining my mutagenic formula's compatibility with arthropod DNA. Ah well…spilt milk."

"Enough of that crap!" snapped Talon, getting in the scientist's face. "Where's Maggie?!"

"Would that I only knew," Sevarius drawled. "Right now, I'm more interested in the question 'Where in the world is Anton Sevarius?' But, if you want my best guess…"

He scowled toward his captors for a moment, before finishing, "It seems someone has taken advantage of my dastardly wicked kidnapping scheme…in order to enact their own."

Thug snorted skeptically from his upward-facing nostrils. " _Hmmmph_ …a likely story," he muttered.

"Actually…this might be one thing he's _not_ lying about," said Elisa, though even that limited defense made her feel somewhat icky. "Right before I lost consciousness, I saw someone tear off his gas mask from behind. I won't discount the possibility of a ruse…but then, why would he leave himself along with the rest of us, _unconscious?_ "

"She _has_ a point, you know," responded Sevarius, in such a ridiculously over-the-top way it made everyone want to punch him anyway.

"Hey…cop lady?" spoke up Benny, who along with his sister had wandered a short distance away during the interrogation. "You might wanna take a look at this."

Elisa frowned, but after making sure Claw still had a good hold of the doctor, went to see what the mutated boy was talking about. Goliath accompanied her.

The two children had come to the edge of the leafy outcropping they'd awoken upon. Once they reached the point where they could see beyond it, however, the detective stopped short.

Spreading out before them was a great deal of additional greenery. Beyond that, she could see gleaming shores of white sand, and at the very edge of her range of vision…

Was the unmistakable sight of the cool blue ocean.

"This is…an island," said Goliath, astonished.

Elisa's mouth opened and closed several times, able to form only vague words. Finally, they tumbled out, a hoarse whisper she couldn't even _begin_ to answer.

"Where _are_ we?"

[-]

As Elisa and Goliath struggled to come to terms with their new surroundings, a miniscule drone in the shape of a fly darted through the air, recording audio and video of their entire conversation.

Elsewhere on the island, these recordings were observed in real time, on a set of monitors that stretched across every wall of an entire room.

"They're starting to ask the right questions," spoke the observer. His voice was British, heavily accented, but also vaguely distorted – as if spoken through a filter. "I'm sure they'll be here soon enough."

"Master, do you really think it wise to let them roam the island unaccompanied?" asked the gravel-voiced man who'd abducted them, no longer constrained by his ill-fitting coat. "What if they interfere with the delicate balance we've worked so hard to build?"

"Without 'interference,' that balance is going to collapse within days, regardless," he reminded his servant. "I _need_ Sevarius' expertise, and as wide a sample size as possible of his masterwork. In that, you exceeded my expectations, Montgomery. Only the gargoyle and the female detective are unnecessary…and if they can help the others survive this hell, all the better."

He then "gestured" – for lack of a better term – to the wide range of monitors, each displaying a different part of the island.

"There is nowhere they can go where I cannot track them," he said. "Montgomery, you are to remain here, and keep tabs on our 'guests,' while I complete the delivery in peace. I will let you know when it is time to… _retrieve_ them."

At these words, his attentions turned to the central monitor, which was hooked up to cameras in the room just next door.

An improvised delivery room, where on a hospital bed and stirrups, sweating and moaning deliriously…

Lay Maggie the Cat, at best a few hours from going into labor.


	2. Episode II: Guanine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode II: Guanine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Alright, since it seems no one else is brave enough to do so…" said Sevarius dryly. "May I just point out that you all clearly have _no_ idea where you're going?"

"Shut up, Frankenstein," Elisa snapped, rubbing at her forehead. She _really_ didn't have time for the doctor's antics at the moment.

"Aha! I'm impressed, Detective," he replied. "Your use of that epithet in this context proves you appreciate 'Frankenstein' was the name of the creator, not the creature as is so often mistakenly assumed by small-minded pleb… _oof!_ "

He was cut off by Claw, over whose shoulder he was being carried, who coolly but deliberately feigned dropping him.

"That's his not-so-subtle way of saying we're all on the same page as my sis," Talon snarled, baring his feline teeth. "Unless you've got something _useful_ to share, shove it. You _don't_ have any friends on this island."

"And how can we be so sure of _that?_ " asked the geneticist. "Which brings us back to my original, _very much_ useful point, thank you very much. Clearly, none of us have the slightest clue: (A) where we are, (B) who brought us here, or (C) what, in the name of all that is sick and unholy, we're supposed to _do_ about it. None of which are solved by wandering aimlessly in a random direction."

"If ya got a better alternative, _doc,_ we're all ears," said Thug. "Not that I actually got 'em myself, anymore. Funny…feels like there's somebody I should thank fer that…"

Some things were just plain more effective when spoken through eighty very sharp teeth.

"As a matter of fact, I _do,_ " Sevarius answered, though his bravado was undercut somewhat by the sweat upon his face. "Two of your number are capable of _flight,_ if you happen to recall. Maybe, I don't know… _use_ that? See, I gave you _nice_ things too!"

"You think I haven't been _trying?_ " Talon shot back. "Dunno what it is, but…I can't seem to get my wings to work right. Haven't been since I woke up."

"Hmm…interesting," mused Sevarius with a frown. "A side-effect of the gas, perhaps? I invented it specifically to leave a gargoyle weak and vulnerable, but this is the first time I've tested it on mutated _Homo sapiens._ So many variables, so little time…"

"And ya thought the best time ta 'test' it was when there were two _children_ in the room?" Thug demanded, glancing back toward Benny and Erin – who'd been shadowing close behind him the whole time. "Seriously, is there _nothin'_ inside ya? _Nothin'?_ "

"Oh, a great many things! Just, perhaps…not the same as in _you_ unfortunate devils," said the geneticist. "But just because I don't restrict myself with self-imposed shackles like 'ethics' or 'morality' doesn't mean that I'm…"

"A bad scientist," Thug interrupted him. "That's what it makes ya. A _bad_ scientist."

"Ex… _Excuse_ me?" sputtered Sevarius, who hadn't been expecting _that_ at all.

"Oooooooooooooooh _snap!_ " exclaimed Benny, gesticulating downward with one of his spindly legs, in a manner so incredibly lame it almost turned around and became cool again.

"The rules aren't just there ta 'restrict' ya. They're there ta keep ya from doin' _bad_ science," explained the crocodile-mutate. "An' I don't mean 'bad,' like… _evil._ Even though it is. I mean 'bad' like _crappy._ Ya do _crap_ science, doc. Ya don't use controls, ya don't isolate variables…ya don't even follow the goddamn scientific _method_ half the time."

He got right up in the helpless doctor's face, affixing him with a slit-eyed glare.

"Ya play at bein' this great big genius, but that's _all_ it is. _Playin'._ Like a kid flingin' around his first chemistry set," he continued, letting the words sting. "Our genes are just _toys_ ta ya. Not fer the sake o' makin' the world a better place. Not fer advancin' humanity's knowledge. Just toys…fer gettin' yer sick jollies off."

Anton Sevarius had listened on through this, silently seething; the mutate seemed to have struck one of his few genuine nerves.

Finally, utterly incensed, he began, "Now see here, you _literally_ reptilian-brained…!"

" _Enough!_ " Goliath forcefully cut him off, without turning around from his position leading the group. "I think we _all_ have some strong words we could offer Sevarius. But right now, they are not helpful. We need to concentrate on determining our current situation…as well as a way home."

Talon let out a hefty sigh, but ultimately nodded.

"Hate to admit, but…you got a point there, big guy," he said. "Look, G, sis…epic adventure on a mysterious island? This is really more your style than mine. So you can take the lead. All _I_ care about is finding Maggie."

"It _is_ a little weird she's the only one they took. Whoever 'they' are," responded Elisa, detective instincts kicking into full gear. "I mean, think about it. Whoever kidnapped us, they had us _all_ unconscious. Five mutates, two regular humans, and a gargoyle. Even with Goliath stuck in stone, they managed to transport us _god knows_ how far."

"And then, after all that trouble, they just… _dumped_ us. In some random clearing," piped up Erin, who was remarkably quick on the uptake for someone her age. "You're right, ma'am. It doesn't add up."

"Well, though _my_ input doesn't seem to be very appreciated right now…" Sevarius drawled. "If it were me? I'd make sure I could monitor my 'test subjects' at any time. We may just _think_ we have free reign. But so does the rat running through the proverbial maze."

Talon raised a fist, which briefly crackled with electricity.

"So that's what we are now, then? Experiments?" he murmured icily. "Had enough of _that_ for one lifetime."

"We'll get out of this, Derek. Frankly, we've been through _way_ worse scrapes," said Elisa, trying her best to sound reassuring. Claw did the same with a hand upon his leader's shoulder. "We just need to stick together."

The entire gathered party, even the children, nodded their agreement with the sentiment.

All except Anton, who mimed sticking a finger down his throat.

[-]

" _We'll get out of this, Derek. Frankly, we've been through_ way _worse scrapes. We just need to stick together."_

Keys tapped rapidly in sequence as Elisa's words played out across a large CRT screen. One of the dozens arrayed across the wall.

A low, mechanical noise echoed through the dim room, as the island's master gazed upon his gathered quarry.

"Montgomery…" he whispered, without turning away from his work. "I believe it is time for us to intercede."

His servant made a grunt of affirmation. "In what way, Master?" he asked.

"The _Crocodylinae_ put it best, I think," said the other man. "First…we isolate the variables."

He pressed a large, red key on his console, his focus upon another one of the monitors.

Elsewhere on the island, a cage door slid open.

[-]

"We should reach that cliff face within a few minutes. If I can manage to climb it, I may be able to better survey the terrain," Goliath told the others, pointing upward.

Elisa, however, looked upon the clan leader with concern. "You sure you're up to that, Goliath?" she muttered, low enough so the others couldn't hear. "The gas…"

"It is true that my strength is…not quite restored," he said, just as quietly. "But unlike Talon and the others, I have at least had a day of stone sleep to recharge myself. I must do this, best I can."

She knew better than to argue. Especially since he was entirely right.

A short time later, she was watching the purple gargoyle ascend the cliff, gripping onto the flaps of her jacket probably more tightly than she needed to.

The rest of them had silently decided this was a good opportunity to take a break. Claw was keeping an eye – and an arm – on Sevarius at all times, while Thug entertained the kids, so her brother wound up sidling next to her.

"I see how you're looking at him," Derek spoke up, out the corner of his panther-like maw. "How you've been looking at him for a long time."

Elisa twitched slightly, looking askance. "Derek, this isn't the time," she responded, without meeting his eye.

"I…I know it isn't," said the mutate, his expression softening. "It's just…I don't see you that much, anymore. Times when we're about to die don't count. I just wanna look out for my big sis."

"I appreciate that, Derek," she whispered back. "But this _isn't_ your call."

"No, but it _is_ my business," he declared. "You're family, and I don't want you going down a road I _know_ you're gonna regret. Not if I have a chance to slam the breaks."

"And why would I regret it?" demanded Elisa, her tones still hushed but full of emotion. "You're not gonna have any objections I haven't told myself, a hundred times over. That I've been telling myself for _years._ And that I finally got over last Halloween. When I realized all the rationalizations in the world don't mean a damn, when it comes to what _really_ counts."

"Look, it's not that I've got a problem with the big guy as a…as a _person,_ " Derek assured his sister, though she got the distinct sense the final word had been swapped in at the last moment. "Sure, we've had our differences in the past, but that's _not_ what this is about. _Think,_ Elisa. Think about what you're giving _up._ "

"To be fair, I think the ship kinda sailed on white picket fences and whatnot a while back. Even if I _did_ find a Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Totally-Normal to settle down with," she said. "Derek, look around us. Our lives went full Twilight Zone a _long_ time ago. Might as well roll with the punches."

"And if your… _choices_ …only affected yourself, then you might have a point," replied Derek. "But they don't, and you know it. After everything they've gone through, don't you think mom and dad deserve grandkids? No magic, no monsters. Just…a regular little baby. One they can coo at and dote on and spoil."

Suddenly, the mutate sounded very weary. "How else is it gonna happen?" he continued on, teeth clenched. "I know Beth broke up with that girl she met in college, but what if she finds another one? Damn well can't adopt in Arizona. And you won't even have _that_ much. Your… _partner_ …doesn't even legally _exist!_ "

"This guilt trip is sounding pretty rich…" snapped Elisa. "Coming from the guy who's due to give them a grandkid _tonight._ "

Suddenly, her voice halted, and her eyes went wide.

"This…isn't really about me and Goliath, is it?" she asked quietly. "This is about what Sevarius said. Look, Derek, you can't believe a word out of that snake's mouth. Your baby's going to be fine."

" _You don't know that!_ " roared Derek, at the top of his lungs.

All other conversation immediately ceased, and every eye – including Benny's segmented ones – fell upon the panther-mutate, who seemed to regret his outburst.

"Elisa, I…maybe you're right," he said, voice again low enough only she could hear. He sounded utterly broken. "I mean, I don't trust the doc any farther than I can throw him. Less, since I got super-strength as part and parcel of his little 'gift basket.' Point is, wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if he turned out to be lying through his teeth."

Derek was breathing quite heavily now, almost seething.

"But…But what if he _isn't?_ " he added quickly. "Sevarius may be scum, but he _knows_ this crap. How's it gonna feel if we go through all this effort, find Maggie, manage to deliver the baby _without_ an OB and _without_ any kind of hospital tools and in the middle of goddamn _nowhere_ … _!_ "

His face was now buried in the talons for which he'd named himself. "…And they come out dead in my arms?" he finished, voice cracking until it trailed away into nothing.

Elisa didn't have anything to say. What _could_ she say?

It fell to Benny to interject, one spindly limb pointed upward, "Uh…where'd the purple gurgle go?"

The detective's attention immediately snapped to the young mutate, and then did a double-take back to the cliff face.

Goliath had disappeared without a trace.

[-]

It'd taken the leader of the Manhattan Clan about three seconds after reaching the top of the cliff for him to be jumped and dragged into the trees.

His abductor was cloaked in shadow, save for their very muscular arms, but they were clearly a match for him in terms of sheer strength. Goliath struggled and snarled, but the other figure had him in a tight chokehold, one furry claw mashed over his mouth to muffle his cries until he was out of earshot of the group below.

Recognizing he was getting nowhere fast, the gargoyle ceased his struggling for a few moments, searching for some other method of escape.

After a beat, his eyes found it: a jagged rock on the ground, heavy but small enough for his tail to wrap around. In a flash, he did so, then slammed it into his abductor's lower back.

He'd lacked the leverage to strike with any real force, but the impact still managed to knock the other figure off-balance. With a roar and a flash of white in his eyes, Goliath managed to break free and round on his would-be captor.

She was clearly feminine in form, though her musculature was nearly a match for Goliath's own. Golden fur covered her body from head to toe, along with a number of black, blotchy spots. A few strips of cloth, ripped and torn in many places, were her only coverings – along with a black, metallic collar around her neck.

"What are you?" asked Goliath. "Another of Sevarius' creations? Can you understand me?"

But the female just hissed, bearing elongated fangs. She took a primal stance, claws at the ready.

Goliath thought he'd be ready for when she lunged. But she moved with such speed that she seemed to cross the distance between them in the blink of an eye, claws slashing him across the chest and leaving long, bloody gashes.

The gargoyle let out a fierce growl of pain, but recovered quickly, moving to grapple with the beast-woman. But she had him outmatched in agility, slipping easily from his grip and attempting another slash at his face, which he just barely dodged.

Doing so forced him into a suboptimal stance of his own, however, and his opponent immediately took advantage. Her own, feline tail cracked like a whip, knocking Goliath off his feet and forcing him to the ground.

The beast-woman straddled him across the chest, pinning his arms with both claws. Then, to his surprise, she spoke.

"You are… _spare_ …" she said, and though she could clearly form words there was something about her voice that made it seem like she _shouldn't._ That every utterance was a near-Herculean undertaking. "Doctor…does not need you…"

She switched to pinning one of his arms with her flexible legs, so that she could raise her left claw dangerously in the air.

"So instead…" she continued, voice strained and scratchy. "You can…"

Then, abruptly, the claw seized Goliath by the hair and pulled him close, so he could feel her hot breath on his face.

And so that he could see the utter _pain_ in her eyes.

"…Help me…" she whispered, finally releasing him from her grip.

[-]

Maggie's world was a swirling swarm of stars.

She was cognizant only enough to know that she was heavily drugged. She'd done her best to stay away from that sort of thing herself, but one couldn't run what was essentially the largest homeless shelter in New York without becoming _very_ familiar with the symptoms of climbing and coming down from highs.

Still, there had to be a _reason_ she felt like this. It just wasn't coming to her yet. Her mind was a mixed-up jumble of past, present, and future.

At once, she saw her father whooping and hollering for her on the stage of her very first school play…just a day before he walked out their house's door for the very last time.

She saw herself arguing with her mother, as she packed a suitcase for New York with her life savings in her pocket. Twenty-two hundred, forty-seven dollars. She was flipping the overbearing woman the bird as she boarded the bus, ready to leave her small town in Ohio behind.

She saw herself wandering from audition to audition, first on Broadway and eventually for cat food commercials and low-grade dubbing of perverted Japanese cartoons. None of which she managed to land.

She saw her savings wither up in the space of a month – no apartment, no car, no food.

She saw herself on the streets, tired and hungry and ridden with the flu, when an old man in an overcoat came promising a job that seemed too good to be true.

She saw just how true that really was. 

There were good memories, too. Meeting Derek, and Claw, and the rest of their burgeoning family. Becoming friends with Elisa and the gargoyles, after their initial… _misunderstandings._ Finding out the news from Doctor Sato for the first time.

A pang of realization shot through Maggie's body. Of course…tonight was the night. The night she was finally going to become a mother.

This numbing feeling, then, was the anesthesia. Doctor Shirakawa was so sweet and considerate. She'd heard so many horror stories of childbirth, and those were for women who _weren't_ half-lioness. She'd just as well drift this peacefully throughout the whole procedure.

Except…

No. Something felt… _off,_ somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something she was missing. Something that'd gone very, _very_ wrong.

Unbidden, an image of the converted med-lab in the Labyrinth filling with sickly green gas swam through her mind.

" _Uuuuuungh_ …" she mumbled, utterly delirious. " _Nnn_ … _Nnnnnngh_ …"

Her vision was nothing but shadows and blurs, but she thought she saw something – or some _one_ – halt in what they were doing, and drift over in her direction. Now that shade was towering over her side.

She became a great deal more disturbed when he began to speak. Though his voice was dull and muffled, as if she had a great deal of cotton in her ear, she could tell two things. One, that the speaker was male…

And two, that she'd never heard him before in her life.

"She appears to be waking up, Master," she was fairly certain he said. Not that it made any sense to her.

Where was she? Who was this? Who was "Master"?

"Increase her morphine drip by three milligrams," answered another male voice, whose speaker was outside her range of vision. The voice seemed to be English, accented very heavily. "And continue to monitor her closely. Notify me when the contractions are less than five minutes apart."

"Understood, Master," stated the first voice again. A moment later, she felt a rush somewhere in her blood, and the world became even blurrier and less focused than before.

Still, she remained aware of herself for just long enough to catch the next snippet of their conversation.

"Master, what is to be done about Minerva?" the servant questioned, a strange quality entering his voice. "She has betrayed us. Betrayed the Law. Should I activate her collar?"

There was a pause. Then…

"If necessary, Montgomery. But stay your hand for now. She isn't our only asset in the field, and I rather wish to see how this develops," said the second voice. "After all, is that not the very reason for which we have enacted this plan?"

Darkness began to swallow Maggie Reed again, but before it did, she was fairly certain she heard that accented voice add, "…To offer your brothers and sisters a chance at new life?"

[-]

"So now we've got _two_ missing party members from our little D&D group," complained Sevarius, hoisted once more upon Claw's shoulder. His wrists were now bound with plant matter they'd gathered during their last stop. "Some truly sterling leadership on display, Detective."

A vein pulsed on Elisa's temple. "Y'know, we're really not all that far from the ocean at the moment," she pointed out, through gritted teeth. "And I've never tried it, but I gotta imagine swimming's hard with your hands tied."

"Oh please, Detective. If you had the stomach for _that_ kind of fun, you would've done it back when I turned your brother into an abomination unto the Lord," said the geneticist. His eyes drifted to Talon. "Oh…no offense intended, of course."

Electricity crackled around the mutate's hand, but dissipated just as quickly. "He's not worth it, he's _not_ worth it," he muttered to himself, maintaining the mantra to hold himself in check.

"Jus' think o' Maggie, Boss-Cat," Thug told him, nodding firmly with his elongated snout. "We'll find her, we'll save her, we'll help bring yer kid inta the world safe an' sound. An' then throw _this_ loudmouth in Rikers fer twenty ta life."

"With possible time off for good behavior!" Sevarius cut in, though he was ignored by everybody.

Derek, for his part, offered a brief but sincere smile to Thug as well as Claw, who was flashing him a thumbs-up. "Good to know I can always count on you guys," he replied. "Dunno how I'd manage to deal with this if I was alone."

And then, as if taking that as their cue, three figures burst from the undergrowth.

The next few moments were too harried and chaotic for Elisa's eyes to follow all of the action. Their attackers moved with inhuman swiftness and dexterity, leaping upon their targets and dragging them back in opposite directions.

First, one wrestled Thug to the ground; they moved too quickly for Elisa to get a glimpse of their face, but they were clearly the largest and burliest of the three. Once the crocodile-mutate was successfully pulled into a hold, his attacker executed a roll that took them back into the surrounding greenery, disappearing entirely from sight.

All this took perhaps three or four seconds.

The second figure managed to get behind the group and grabbed both the mutated children, holding them up by the scruff of their necks – or, rather, by the scruff of their shells. Claw, his hands burning with electricity, rushed toward them with an entirely silent snarl, but was blindsided by the final attacker.

This one was the quickest, a short and stocky sort, who barreled into Claw's back with no apparent regard for themselves. The two went sailing into the brush as well, and didn't return.

That just left baddie number two, still standing there with Benny and Erin flailing futilely in his grip. He stood at full height, allowing Elisa and Derek to get a good look at him for the first time.

Like Thug, he was clearly something in between man and reptile, though his snout and general body structure seemed more lizard than crocodile. He wore a white shirt and brown pants, though both were in heavy states of disarray, and his eyes were yellow and slit-like. A black collar was wrapped around his thick neck to the point of straining.

"Oh God…" said Elisa, gasping. "That bastard _was_ lying! Who _else_ could be responsible for something like this?"

Meanwhile, a short distance away, the "bastard" in question had used the confusion to slip out of his improvised restraints, and was getting ready to make his valiant escape. Before he could take more than a single step away, however, the lizard-man's prehensile tail whipped out and caught him around the leg, pulling him up into the air as well.

"Ah, well…can't blame a man for trying, can you?" he asked, to no one in particular. Still, he couldn't suppress a single, pronounced _gulp_ as his captor held his upside-down body at eye level.

" _Sevarius!_ " Talon exclaimed furiously. "How many more victims of your sick games _don't_ we know about?!"

Anton Sevarius didn't do what either of the Maza siblings had been expecting, however. He didn't vociferously protest the description of his brilliant handiwork as "sick games," or try to lecture them on why his test subjects should be grateful to help advance the clarion call of science. He didn't even break into a bout of maniacal laughter.

Instead, he glanced at the pair, then at the lizard-man, then back again.

And he said, almost sounding offended, "This certainly isn't _my_ work."

Elisa rolled her eyes so hard it hurt slightly. "Oh, please," she spat at him, hating Sevarius more in that moment than she could ever remember hating another human being – even Xanatos. "Like mutating innocent people into walking guinea pigs is some kind of growth industry."

"I don't know what to tell you, Detective," responded Sevarius, coming as close to shrugging as one could when wrapped up in a four-foot-long lizard tail. "But clearly, I have _some_ sort of peer. Or competitor, as the case may be. Still, the craftsmanship's really quite shoddy. I'm rather insulted you could mistake this for one of mine."

"The hell are you talking about?" Derek demanded.

The geneticist cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You honestly _can't_ tell?" he remarked offhandedly, making it clear he thought the answer was blatantly obvious. "I mean, it's well put-together for what it is, I _suppose._ But that's like comparing the very best junkyard scrap sculpture to the Mona Lisa. We're not even talking the same _ballpark_ here."

"Just get to the damn point already," Elisa cut him off, her eyes on the children. The lizard-man hadn't done anything to hurt them, _yet,_ but she didn't want to take the chance of him changing his mind.

"As you know, my mutagenic formula induces physiological changes to a _Homo sapiens_ subject by way of introducing the DNA of one or more additional species," said Sevarius. "It's a little more complicated than that, but that's the best layman's explanation I can offer. Here, however? The exact _opposite_ has taken place!"

Finally, unable to hold it back any longer, he let out a single, whooping laugh.

"Don't you see, Detective?" he crowed loudly. "This isn't a man turned to a lizard! This is a lizard transformed into a man!"

"The five-man…speaks truth…" hissed the mutated reptile, shocking them all. He lifted all three of his captives above his head, holding them as hostages, and tilted his head twice to the side in a gesture for Derek and Elisa to follow.

"Enough…stalling…" he added, after a moment's pause. "The Doctor…will see you now."

[-]

"Let me make sure that I understand you correctly," said Goliath, as the two of them loped through the forest on all fours. "You and your kind were once ordinary creatures, living upon this island. Until this…'Doctor'…performed a procedure upon you?"

"The Gift…" corrected the beast-woman, appearing very insistent upon the phrase. "Doctor…has granted it…for as long as…the Law's existed. My sire…and his sire before him…and _his_ sire before him…"

"They become akin to humans," the clan leader spoke softly. "And yet their offspring retain their original, bestial nature. Necessitating that this 'Gift' be repeated for each successive generation."

He considered this concept for a moment, trying not to let on just how much it disturbed him, before asking, "How long has this process been going on? What is this… 'Law'?"

"The Law…is in our blood. In our flesh…" she told him. "What we may do…what we may never do. Without the Law…there is chaos. We do not…remember…before the Law. Too long ago… _too_ long…"

"Then…may I ask what is the problem?" replied Goliath. "For what do you require my help?"

The beast-woman stopped in her tracks for a moment, and Goliath stopped with her. She lifted one, misshapen paw in front of his face. He noticed she had four "fingers," as he did, though they were twisted in a way that looked grossly unnatural.

"Eventually we…revert…" she said, speaking the word as if it was something incredibly shameful. "We… _always_ revert. Doctor…trying to fix. Has always…tried to fix. But…But…"

"If this 'Gift' is only temporary…" Goliath was unable to keep from pointing out, though he wasn't certain it was wise to do so. "Then why does your 'Doctor' continue to insist upon it? Would it not be more merciful to allow nature to run its course?"

But the beast-woman just shook her head vociferously.

"Once the Gift…is granted…restoring is simple. For Doctor…less than one rising sun. He has…improved…" she tried to explain, though it was clear her words were at a loss to describe the Doctor's methods properly.

She thrust out one of her arms to the east as they continued along at a slower pace, now on two legs. She seemed to feel more comfortable that way; while running along on four paws, she'd frequently twitched and jerked without explanation, as if the mental self-contradiction pained her physically.

"The Sayers tell…that once…there was a House of Pain…" she continued on. "Now in its place…House of Salvation. Where the Gift…is granted. Where…the Gift is…restored…"

"But that does not answer my…" Goliath started, but he was cut off by the glint in the beast-woman's feline eyes, underneath the moonlight.

"If we…lose the Gift…" she said, coming to a stop again as they reached another cliff. She beckoned him closer, and reached forward to pull aside a thicket of vines. "Then we lose…all we've built…"

The gargoyle stepped forward as he was bidden, peering through the opening in the vines.

And his eyes went wide at the sight that greeted them.

"Welcome…friend…" she whispered, her tones all but reverent. "To Beast Folk City."

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**


	3. Episode III: Adenine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode III: Adenine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Beast Folk City, despite its name, was not nearly as large or expansive as the other "cities" Goliath had witnessed in this era. New York, London, or Paris would have dwarfed it by a factor incalculable.

If he were to draw comparison to any place he had visited in his travels, it would have to be Ishimura. The close-knit nature of the buildings, and the fact that nearly all of them were single-story, were evocative of the small Japanese village.

Still, one thing Goliath had learned about the modern world was that human language could be quite… _malleable._ The gargoyle in him found that appealing – language was really just a system for sophisticated naming, after all – but there was no question it could occasionally become confusing.

Why _did_ humans insist on naming their sports teams after creatures and concepts they very clearly were _not,_ to take but one example?

But returning to the subject at hand, if one defined the term "city" by the behavior of its people rather than the size and scope of its land mass, then the title was unquestionably appropriate.

There were dozens, hundreds, maybe even _thousands_ of Beast Folk, hustling and bustling with all the urgency of the Manhattan rush hour. Nearly all were clothed, though the style and condition of the garments varied wildly.

In one place, there was a small rabbit-like girl wearing a sundried flannel shirt and straw hat, walking next to a fox-like boy with a dress shirt and tie – though both were put on backwards. In another spot, a golden-furred, bear-like man wore nothing but a too-small red shirt as he guzzled down a container of honey.

Goliath certainly was not in a position to judge, having worn the same loincloth for a literal millennium. But the sheer diversity of the Beast Folk surprised him.

There were Folk with fur and Folk with scales; Folk with wings and Folk that swam; Folk clearly descended from herbivores, all flat teeth and bodies designed for fleeing, and others whose sharp fangs and claws marked them as hunters – by nature if not inclination.

"How is such a variety of individuals capable of coexisting peacefully?" he asked his companion, the Cheetah-Woman. "Humans, even gargoyles at times, experience conflict when gathered in such large groups. And they are far more similar in form and function than these Beast Folk…whether or not they always acknowledge it."

"The Law…guides us. Protects us…" she said, each word still sounding like a desperate struggle. "We cannot…partake…in the flesh of others. Even we…who have the tools…to do so. Doctor…able to change…"

She did not elaborate on exactly what it was this Doctor "changed;" might not have been able to. The exact details of his science or sorcery seemed to be one thing she simply lacked the vocabulary to describe.

"But who is it who enforces this Law? Who takes action when there is a violation, and assigns appropriate punishment?" responded Goliath. "Do you have a leader? Or perhaps a…detective?"

"Doctor…leads us. From him…comes the Law. His…are the stars…in the sky…" spoke the Cheetah-Woman, sounding as if she was repeating words she had heard some time ago. "When Doctor is…not here…Sayers speak for him. Come…you must meet…"

She led him down a grassy, unpaved street, pushing past – sometimes forcefully – a number of other Beast Folk. He saw many of them cast him lingering looks, perhaps wondering what sort of creature he was mutated from, but if they had questions they chose not to voice them.

This seemed to be a kind of market, of sorts, though he observed no exchange of human-like currency. Instead the Beast Folk wandered around with arms full of plants and fruits, bartering one for another.

There were other facilities reminiscent of human ones as well. A park, where three bird-like children bounced around shoddily built structures, while an older duck-billed man in a top hat shook a stick at them. An open-aired amphitheater, where another spotted cat-like creature, this one shorter and male, exchanged slow and tortured banter with his audience.

In the distance, a great number of Beast Folk could even be seen cultivating farmland, albeit with difficulty.

But in every case, there seemed to be something… _missing._ He was not looking upon a fully formed culture of its own, the kind one might find among gargoyles or humans or New Olympians.

Really, there was no other way to describe it. This was…

"A pantomime. A labored imitation of human society," he said, frowning. "I apologize if that sounds cruel, but it is all I can see."

"No, I'm afraid that you are entirely correct," an older voice cut in, causing Goliath to turn. They'd arrived at their destination, it seemed – a large but nearly empty building at the very center of Beast Folk City.

And standing outside it was a wizened old man who resembled nothing if not an overlarge black mouse, wearing little but a pair of red shorts.

"You must be one of the outsiders the Doctor is pursuing," the Mouse-Man continued on. He had a high voice for his apparent, rather advanced age, though he also spoke English with none of the difficulty the Cheetah-Woman experienced. He turned to her and offered a low bow. "Minerva, you've done well. Thank you."

Then fixing his oddly sized eyes back upon Goliath, he gestured toward the inside of the building.

"Now please, my friend…join my fellow Sayers," he said. "We have much to discuss, and no great deal of time."

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"We're sorry, Miss Maza," muttered Erin, as she hung limply from the right claw of the Lizard-Man. "If we hadn't gotten captured, you and Talon might've been able to fight him off…"

"Hey kid, don't blame yourself," Elisa tried to assure the young girl. "Blame the mutated lizard monster who's holding you two hostage so he can take us all to his master."

The detective did a quick double-take, before saying, "And I cannot _believe_ my life has gotten to a point where that's a normal sentence."

All six of them – herself, Derek, Sevarius, Erin, Benny, and the Lizard-Man – were being led by the latter through the island's rough terrain. The turtle-mutate was right in that, working together, Elisa and her brother could _probably_ take Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Scaly, but with a kid in either hand she couldn't risk it.

Besides, given how swiftly and how efficiently his friends had managed to take out Claw and Thug, there was no guarantee he didn't have backup waiting in the trees, prepared to counter any "funny business."

As such, the group saw no choice except to comply. At least for now.

"You know, I'm in two minds about this whole thing," drawled Sevarius, breaking through a tragically short-lived silence. "On the one hand, science _thrives_ off the concept of peer review. And the number of 'peers' I have in this _particular_ field has always hovered in the general neighborhood of _zero._ On the other, of course…"

He gestured toward the Lizard-Man and made a face, then added in a carrying whisper, "I mean, come _on._ What've I got to learn from the rank amateur responsible for _this?_ "

"Five-Man…you know…" said the Lizard-Man laboriously. "That I can… _hear_ you…right…?"

"Very well, shutting up," the geneticist tossed off. "For _nooooooooow._ "

There was no reason for him to elongate the vowel that much, but of course he did anyway.

"We done wasting time? Because I've got a few questions for bug-breath here," growled Derek Maza, staying just a few feet behind the Lizard-Man at all times. "Who the hell _is_ this 'Doctor'? Does he have Maggie?"

"I do not…know…the Doctor's secrets…" he hissed back. "And I…would not…betray him…if I did…"

"You seem awful loyal to a guy who turned you into a twisted science experiment," said Elisa with a frown.

The Lizard-Man turned back to her briefly, looking as if she'd just spoken utter insanity. "Doctor…gave us…the Gift…" he rumbled. "We are… _his_ people. His…children…"

" _Urrrgh_ …doesn't look like we're gonna get anywhere with this guy," Derek whispered to his sister, frustration evident in every corner of his feline face. "Guess we gotta hope this doc's a little more… _verbal._ "

"How far are we from him right now?" Elisa asked their escort. "Where _is_ he, exactly? Hell, where are _we?_ "

The Lizard-Man was silent for a few moments, as if considering whether these questions could be answered without betraying his mysterious master.

Apparently he decided in the affirmative, because he eventually told them, "This…is the Island. That…is all…we've ever needed…to know. And…at its heart…"

He parted his way through a dense bush and gestured forward with one, scaly claw.

"The House…of Salvation…" he finished, looking upon the nondescript building as if it was the holiest site on Earth.

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

The "Sayers," it transpired, were a group of three elderly Beast Folk. In addition to the Mouse-Man, there was another of the duck-billed kind clad in blue, as well as a tall dog-like man in a green hat.

They stood gathered around a messily arranged fire, not looking at Goliath. He was struck immediately by the mood pervading this chamber – a heavy, oppressive feeling of despondency.

"Thank you for coming, stranger," said the Dog-Man, his voice very strangely accented. "But I fear your intervention may be too late."

"You shouldn't give up hope so quickly, my friend," advised the Mouse-Man, placing a gloved hand on the other Sayer's shoulder. "His arrival is a _sign._ The Law has delivered, in its own way. Now it is up to us to make the most of it."

The Duck-Man looked at him crossly as he spoke these words, his own hat falling from his head as he literally _shook_ with rage. Then he opened his bill, and released a series of unintelligible shrieks.

It was not that he was just making the natural sounds of a duck; his tone and rhythm still definitely marked it as speech. But the words themselves were nearly impossible to understand – at least, apart from one, if only because it was repeated so many times.

And that word was "Doctor."

"I'm sorry, stranger," the Dog-Man whispered hurriedly. "Even we, who were chosen by the Doctor to speak the Law for our wise tongues, aren't immune to what's… _transpired._ Poor Clarence has lost most of his linguistic faculties, and I fear that may just be the beginning."

The Duck-Man, Clarence, looked quite cross at being spoken for in this way, but "said" nothing further.

"Incidentally, I have taken the name 'Walter,' and this is Vance," said the Mouse-Man. "Apologies for our rudeness. We should have introduced ourselves earlier."

"Humans have called me 'Goliath.' Although I must admit…" replied the gargoyle. "I am surprised that you have taken such… _human_ names, at all."

"You spoke more truth than perhaps you know, when you called our society…what was it again? A labored imitation?" Walter continued on. "Try as we might to escape it, that is what we've always been: a pale shadow of the humans. Dog, duck, and mouse weren't meant to speak man's tongue, or use his tools. We cannot innovate. Only chase what we can never quite be."

Goliath nodded solemnly, but was confused about one thing. "How is it that you are _able_ to…as you say, imitate?" he asked. "I have seen no 'true' humans anywhere on this island, beyond the ones I arrived with."

"Sometimes, the Doctor provides us books, or magazines. Not all of us can read, but the pictures are universal," Vance told him. "In recent years, he's even taken to showing…I believe he called it 'vi-di-o'? Moving pictures on a screen. He uses them to distract us from the pain when applying or renewing the Gift."

"When our young ones see a photograph of humans riding a bicycle, or catching a ball, or playing with toys, they're naturally drawn to try it too," added Walter. "Even if their hands and feet aren't quite able. Even if they cannot pedal, or throw, or grip the way human children can. And we elders are no different, really."

"You make this Doctor's 'Gift' sound far more like a curse," said Goliath, frowning.

Clarence made an angry, warbling sound, holding up and shaking one arm. He might have been trying to form a fist, but it was difficult – with the limb a mangled, twisted mess, somewhere between a human arm and a wing.

"Let it never be said we aren't grateful!" Walter quickly exclaimed, trying to placate his incoherent friend. "But…that is simply the nature of our fate. Halfway between worlds – not fully beast _or_ man. Longing to fully become that which we've always been mere reflections of."

"Then…if you had the choice…" Goliath murmured. "You would _be_ humans."

"Could _you_ say any different, friend?" asked Vance, his wide eyes sad but purposeful. "I'm not sure what beast you were changed from, but your wisdom and eloquence are obvious. You'd have a shorter path to travel than most."

Though in the back of his mind Goliath knew their misconception was not unreasonable, he could not help but feel a little affronted.

"I am not, and have never _been,_ human. I am a gargoyle, a race significantly older," he said firmly. "And I would not change who I am, _what_ I am…for any reason."

He could see the skepticism in their eyes, but the Sayers voiced no objections aloud.

"Even if what you once were was a dirty, mindless animal?" Vance continued to insist, his tone imploring. "Even if you can _feel_ the thoughts, the threads of your very mind and identity, slipping away one by one? Even if…if… _raaaaaaarff!_ _Ruff! Ruff!_ "

Vance looked down at his calloused paw-hands, a look of utter horror upon his face at the sound that had just escaped it.

Eventually, he seemed to muster himself, and choked out a hoarse, "It…may already be too late, for me. For _us._ But perhaps our brothers and sisters can still be saved. That is why we need you, Goliath. You and your friends can restore hope to our people."

"Your words are kind," responded Goliath, looking upon the Dog-Man with pity. "But I still fail to see how you expect us to aid you. Or why your 'Doctor' brought us here in the first place."

"Let me show you something, Goliath," said Walter, gesturing him to follow outside. "Perhaps this will help you better understand our plight. And the role you may be able to play in healing it."

Goliath followed after the Mouse-Man, the other two Sayers at his side. Clarence never stopped glaring silent daggers at the gargoyle, but his beak remained shut.

At first glance, Beast Folk City was still bustling with such intensity that it took Goliath several moments to figure out what he was supposed to be looking for. But eventually, his eyes fell upon something heavily incongruent with the overall "feel" of the City; something shoved far to the side, away from the homes and market stalls, as if it was shameful and embarrassing.

"Why…" he whispered quietly. "Is that one caged?"

It was another bear-like creature, though jet-black in hue, prowling about between the iron bars on all fours. This one wore no clothes, distinguished only from a non-altered bear by their strange, gangly shape.

Walter sidled up next to the gargoyle, shaking his head back and forth, his gaze turned downward.

"Every time the Gift is renewed, it lingers just a little bit shorter a time," he explained. "When I was young, each visit to the Doctor would last me nearly a year. Now…some of my fellows require treatment every few days. Each return diminishes from the last."

"Then…there are those like poor Emma," said Vance, gesturing toward the Bear-Woman. "She no longer even _responds_ to the Gift. The changes to her body remain, but…her _mind_ …"

He was saved from having to speak any further as Emma suddenly took notice of their presence. With a snarling roar, she lunged toward the bars, biting and gnashing against already well-worn toothmarks in the metal.

"We keep her in this cage, friend…" Walter answered, belatedly. "Because if we did not, she would slaughter everyone in her path."

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

The first impression Elisa had as they entered the building was of a hospital.

Certainly, it had the same "feel" to it: cold, sterile, and clinical, with all-white walls and perfectly smooth floors. Everything was squares and sharp angles, without even the smallest mote of dust out of place.

At the same time, though, the difference in atmosphere from a facility like Manhattan General – a location she'd become all too familiar with – was palpable. There was no decoration whatsoever in this place; no landscape paintings or potted plants or laminated flyers reminding you to get your flu shot.

There wasn't _anything_ but white and gray, which gave the halls an uncomfortable feeling of sameness, as if they were traipsing through a giant maze. Nevertheless, the Lizard-Man seemed to have no trouble making his way.

The most notable difference, however, was the lack of other people. The hospitals in New York were _always_ buzzing with activity, doctors and nurses and patients moving from unit to unit like bees flitting about a hive.

Here, there was _nothing._ The echoes of their breaths and footsteps spread out unimpeded, as there was no other noise to obstruct them.

"How much farther _is_ this oh-so-wonderful 'Doctor' of yours?" demanded Sevarius, making finger-quotes around the word. "I certainly hope he doesn't expect to keep _Doctor Anton Sevarius,_ greatest geneticist on the planet Earth, waiting for _too_ much longer!"

The Lizard-Man actually turned toward Elisa and Derek, something like exasperation across his reptilian snout.

"Does he…" he said, laboriously. " _Ever_ …shut up…?"

"If you can find a way, then I'm honestly willing to forgive the whole 'kidnapping' thing," grumbled Erin, still hanging from his claw.

"Is this where our friends were taken?" asked Elisa, trying a different tact. "Can you at least tell me what he _wants_ with all of us?"

"Doctor…will explain…everything…" answered the creature. "Not…too much…farther…"

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of hearing…" Derek started crossly, but he fell silent as they turned the last corner.

They'd finally run into another "person," this one resembling nothing if not a slightly more humanoid gorilla. He wore a red beret, and something that might've once been a piece of army fatigues, stretched to the breaking point across his very muscular form.

He stood in front of a pair of double doors, as if guarding them. As soon as he saw the Lizard-Man, he raised one overlarge hand in a quick but formal salute.

"Curtis…" he said. His voice was low, gravelly, with a trace of an English accent. "You are to be commended. I will recommend Master reassign you to the House as soon as possible."

"Thank you…Montgomery…" hissed the Lizard-Man – or, Curtis, it seemed he was called – as he bowed as low as he could without releasing his hostages. "Where…should I…leave these…?"

He raised Benny and Erin a few inches higher up in the air, as if they were bags of groceries he was assigned to deliver.

"Master is busy tending to the female. And monitoring the situation in the City," Montgomery told his fellow. "Take these three to Lab Five for initial examination. I will take custody of the humans."

"Hold on, Heston," growled Derek, stepping forward. "When you say 'the female,' you're talking about Maggie, aren't you? Where is she?! _Take me to her!_ "

The Gorilla-Man's expression remained unaltered – but he also didn't deny it.

"Her condition is very delicate right now. But we aren't cruel. We'll ensure you are present for the birth itself," he said. "For now, please leave her in Master's care. He's the only person on this island qualified to oversee the delivery."

"A- _hem,_ " Sevarius cleared his throat exaggeratedly.

"I'd sooner let Xanatos give me a prostate exam than allow _you_ anywhere near my kid," Derek snapped, before wheeling back to Montgomery. "Not that I've got reason to trust _your_ doc any more. Take me to her, _now._ I won't ask so nicely the third time."

The Gorilla-Man, who was about Goliath's height, was unmoved. "If you wish to see your mate as soon as possible…" he rumbled. "Then you had best go with Curtis. Master will see you each individually, then as a group. He needs to learn as much as possible about the circumstances of your… _alterations._ "

"Well if _that's_ all you need," piped up Sevarius, raising a finger. "Then I'd be more than happy to compare notes. Just so long as he's willing to meet my standard rate of retainer. Which, on an hourly basis, is…"

"You will offer up _everything_ you know to us, human," Montgomery cut him off sharply. "Without precondition or delay. Otherwise, your safety cannot be guaranteed."

He punctuated this point by drawing an object from behind his back. It appeared to be a particle beam cannon, modified to be operated with his massive hands.

"Err…on second thought, Sevarius Consulting Services, LLC is operating a special this weekend!" said the doctor, sweating a bit. "For new clients, the first session is free. My, it really _is_ your boss' lucky day!"

"That will depend on what answers your creations can provide us," replied Montgomery impatiently. "Laboratory Five, Curtis."

"Of course…sir…" the Lizard-Man stated with a nod, before gesturing toward Derek with his snout. "Come along…with me…"

The mutate looked conflicted. His yellow eyes passed between the weapon Montgomery was holding, to the children still held in Curtis' grip, before coming to rest upon his sister. He cast another quick glance toward their captors, then pulled her aside.

"Elisa, I'm not cut out for this," he whispered to her. "All this back-dealing and secrets. I just want to find Maggie. Make sure the baby comes safely. And then go _home._ "

"I get that, Derek. You have no _idea_ how much I get that," she muttered back. "But right now, we need to do what they say. At least until we know more. Given the ambiance of this place, I'm betting this 'Doctor' is gonna monologue his entire plan and reason for being the second he gets a chance. Once he does, I'll come find you, and everyone else."

"Promise?" Derek breathed out.

"Cross my heart," said Elisa, moving her finger twice across her chest.

"And hope to die," responded the mutate, mirroring the sign.

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"All across our fair City, more and more Beast Folk are reverting. The Doctor does his best to stem the tide, but he can only operate on one at a time," Walter explained as they walked. "Our society has always walked a precarious balance between two worlds, but now we've reached a tipping point. It's led him to take some drastic measures."

"Our kidnapping," growled Goliath, scowling.

"Regrettably…yes. That does appear to be the case," said Vance. "Not that we can know for certain. The Doctor meets with we Sayers sometimes, to clarify aspects of the Law, so that we might better convey it to our fellows. But we cannot just call upon him whenever we please."

"Your relationship seems…remarkably one-sided," the gargoyle observed coolly.

"How could it not be?" asked Walter sadly. "We were beasts of forest and field he deigned to lift up, and grant the brains of men. He is everything to us. Leader, father…god. We don't want to go back, to the time before the Gift. We _won't_ go back."

Clarence made a loud sound that might have been agreement, but there was no way to be certain.

"Is that why you are collared?" murmured Goliath, pointing to his own neck. "To show subservience?"

He had been trying to come up with a way to broach the issue for some time now. It was the one feature every one of the Beast Folk, big or small, predator or prey, all shared – a black, metallic collar, with a dim red section that might have been made to light up, though at the moment it was dormant. Even the mindless Emma had had one encircling her neck.

"The collars simply allow the Doctor to track our location. With so many of us in the City now, it's a necessary precaution," Vance told him. "Yes, they also have the capacity to… _discipline_ us. But that's a good thing!"

"When Emma first lost her mind, it was in the middle of a crowded street. She…maimed a child," added Walter, eyes askance. "Were it not for the Doctor's quick action, she could've hurt or killed dozens more."

"It is very rare that the Doctor is forced to activate that function," said Vance firmly. "When he does, it is for our own good. His is the hand that makes. His is the hand that _heals._ His is the hand that wounds, but _only_ so we can be healed further."

Their words had come so quickly, so in concert with one another, that it rather disturbed the gargoyle. What had this "Doctor" done to these poor creatures, _truly?_

The four of them were walking through the City again, and with an eye specifically searching for it Goliath no longer had any trouble picking up the cracks and seams in their patchwork society.

All around there were Beast-Folk who wore less clothes than the rest, their apparel dirty and unkempt. Some took a few steps on all fours before hastily catching themselves, stumbling back to two legs. By the waterfront, a man with a head like a shark's was staggering out of the ocean, finlike hands pressed tightly over his mouth.

The Sayers looked upon this, alarmed, and quickly rushed over. Goliath followed, but held back a few feet.

"Remember the Law, Barry!" shouted Walter, grasping the Shark-Man by the shoulders. Clarence helped hold him down, keeping him from returning to the water. "Keep it in your heart, always!"

"Not to eat fish or flesh, _that_ is the Law!" cried Vance. "Are we not men?"

"I…I know…Sayers…" said Barry, through tortured sobs. "But…it's so hard. I'm…so _hungry_ …"

Suddenly, the light on his collar came to life, blinking a steady, violent red. Barry screamed in pain for several seconds, then collapsed in their arms.

"Vance, have them prepare another cage. The Doctor must be watching, to have reacted so quickly," ordered Walter. "Hopefully, Barry isn't as far gone as Emma. But he _must_ be contained in the meantime, just in case."

Goliath looked upon this whole scene with an expression of dim horror. For the moment, as the Sayers worked to calm down all the panicking Beast Folk who had witnessed this incident, he was forgotten.

"Last week…after Emma…Doctor met with Sayers…" spoke the slow, rough voice of Minerva, rejoining the gargoyle's side. He had failed to even notice her approach. "Said…more Beast Folk…would be coming. Folk…made by…another hand…"

She clenched and unclenched her clawed fists, her gaze pointedly averted from the scene as another Bear-Man – this one wearing something like a pilot's uniform – helped Walter and Clarence drag the unconscious Barry away.

"I was…one of the ones…tasked with…capturing them…" she continued after a moment. "But Sayers…asked me…to bring one…here. So you could… _see_ …"

"He believes the mutates might hold the key to making his 'Gift' more permanent," said Goliath, finally realizing. "But it seems there has been a misunderstanding. You and the Sayers speak of being raised from beasts to a form in-between. Sevarius did the opposite – turning humans into more bestial shapes."

Minerva turned toward him, her catlike eyes wide.

"I am…unsure…" she murmured, breathless. "If the Doctor… _knows_ this…"

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

The room Elisa was taken to was dark, dismal, and barren. She was pretty sure it might've been an operating room at some point, but it was mostly empty of the kinds of equipment and machines one would need for such procedures, leaving only a hospital bed, a set of cabinets with a sink, and a few chairs.

It didn't help that her only company was a gun-toting Gorilla-Man, as well as _easily_ one of her least-favorite people in the world.

"I hope they don't expect me to _work_ in these conditions," sneered Anton Sevarius, setting himself down upon one of the chairs and leaning back. "What _is_ it with you people and disrespect for the basic fundamentals of a laboratory? First there was your boyfriend spiriting me away to the old Cyberbiotics base, and _then_ there was that whole mess in Hokkaido…"

"Hokkaido? We never met in Japan," said Elisa with a frown.

"Oh, right, you weren't there for that. I tend to get all you stick-in-the-mud do-gooders mixed up," the geneticist replied off-handedly. "Forget I said anything."

Elisa _definitely_ would've followed up on this, but was cut off by Montgomery, who raised his weapon up a few inches.

"Your squabbling is _irritating_ me, humans," he told them. "Quiet down, until Master is ready to see you."

"Which will be _when,_ exactly?" demanded Sevarius, though he was eyeing the gun warily the whole time. "Of the many winning aspects of my personality, patience is usually _not_ cited as one of them."

"The child's welfare comes first. Only when Master is confident in the stability of the female's condition will he have time for… _other_ matters," said Montgomery. "For now, know your place. And prepare yourself to bask in the light of a _truly_ superior mind."

"If he was so 'superior,' he wouldn't need _my_ help, now would he?" Sevarius asked, waving a dismissive hand. "Not that I'm not flattered, of course. And eager to get to work! Oh, the sheer variety of playthings here at my disposal makes even _my_ mind boggle!"

"You've been brought here to provide expertise and guidance. _Not_ to experiment on my people," snapped the Gorilla-Man. "You think small, human, flitting from client to client for pennies. Master operates on a _far_ grander stage. He's the most brilliant man on the face of the Earth."

Elisa found herself flashing back to the _last_ time she'd heard words like those, spoken in just that way: Fox in her prison uniform, tossing her hair back as she heaped praise upon the man who would one day become her husband.

Was it possible that this "Doctor," whoever he was, and his…servant? Enforcer? Bodyguard?

Was it possible that _they_ were…?

Inwardly, the detective's brain reached for a bottle of imaginary bleach and drowned itself silly.

After pushing that "oh god no no no no" thought out of her mind, however, she found something else crystallizing in its wake. A number of clues, some of them anvil-sized, from their trek here were starting to come together.

A light blinked on a small radio strapped to the front of Montgomery's combat fatigues. The Gorilla-Man immediately answered, operating it with surprising dexterity given that each of his fingers was the size of every button on the device put together.

"Master, are you finished already?" he said; he was too far away for Elisa to hear the other side of the conversation. "Yes, they…Yes…Yes, of course, Master. Yes, the humans are ready to meet with you. Give me just a moment and I'll attend to the door for…"

But it seemed that wasn't going to be necessary. A panel in the far wall slid away, revealing a hidden passage.

"Hold up, before you come into the light," called out Elisa, surprising everyone else in the room. "I want a chance to play a little game of 'Guess the Big Bad,' if you don't mind."

The Doctor didn't say anything, but also didn't emerge from his shadowed alcove.

"Mysterious island? Tribe of animal-people? Guy named Montgomery as your main assistant?" she went on, arms crossed. "Gotta say, it's ringing a few too many bells to be a coincidence. From a little book I read for high school lit."

"I _told_ you to mind your place!" snarled Montgomery, baring his teeth aggressively, but the policewoman didn't let herself be deterred.

"A few years ago, I would've just chalked it up to a fanboy going overboard in trying to copycat his favorite mad scientist," she said. "But now my world's a helluva lot bigger, and I subscribe to a principle I've dubbed 'Elisa's razor.' The weirdest explanation is usually the right one."

Their kidnapper was now just on the threshold of being visible, waiting patiently for her to finish.

"You're him, aren't him? _Really_ him, I mean," she declared. "You're Doctor Moreau."

There was a brief pause. Then, a whirring, mechanical sound filled the room, as the Doctor moved forward.

The overhead light caught his slowly advancing form, and Elisa gasped out loud.

He wasn't human; at least, not physically. He appeared to be piloting some kind of drone, cylindrical in shape, a mix of dull grays and blacks. Nothing adorned the drone as it wheeled forward – no, not _wheeled,_ it seemed to be floating half an inch above the ground – save for four, claw-tipped robotic arms, which moved with all the range and dexterity of an octopus' tentacles.

But all that paled in comparison to what was _atop_ the drone.

Encased in a glass shell, suspended in some kind of partially opaque solution, was the Doctor's _brain._ Wires were attached to the organ at key points, connecting them to the "body" below, and presumably allowing him to control it.

"In the flesh…" he said, a heavy British accent leaking into his voice, despite that it was clearly generated by an automated voice box. "So to speak."


	4. Episode IV: Thymine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode IV: Thymine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **House of Pain**

 **March 16, 1887 A.D.**

"What in heaven…am I _looking_ at?" demanded the young man, scrunching his brow as he sifted through the cluttered papers littering the desk before him.

The laboratory's sole other occupant, an Englishman with a fine black suit and slicked back hair, responded with a tight frown.

"I'm afraid my particular areas of expertise happen to lie… _elsewhere,_ " he said, tapping the ground once with his cane. His hands were folded over the rod, which was topped with an enormous emerald. "But to my understanding, these plans outline a mechanical system for preserving the human brain's higher functions, even if separated from a physical body. I believe the good doctor was tinkering around with it whenever his bestial test subjects ran dry. A side-project, if you will."

A glint appeared in his eye, mirrored in the jewel. "Of course…" he added, lip curling briefly. "I doubt he ever expected _he_ would be the first one to utilize it."

The young man leafed through page after page of complicated blueprints, full of hastily scrawled notes and crossed-out sections. However brilliant Doctor Moreau might've been at vivisection, those talents _clearly_ hadn't translated to mechanical engineering.

"I think I can piece together the theory from these, more or less," he told the gentleman, after a few more minutes of review. "But I simply can't see how this is _possible._ Moreau has been dead almost a week. Whatever might remain of his… _consciousness,_ or whatever you wish to call it…is long gone. His 'brain' is just a lump of gray flesh."

"Before you came to this Island, young lad…" replied the other man. "Would you have believed leopards and dogs speaking the tongue of man was at all 'possible'?"

He didn't really have an argument against that point. Since running aground on these shores, he'd been forced to throw his conceptions about what science could and could not unleash out the window.

"Nevertheless…I'm not sure what you expect out of me," he said, changing tack. "I may be educated in the systems of biology, but I'm far from Moreau's equal. I'd be far in over my head trying to implement something like… _this._ "

"And if the Society had any choice in the matter, we would certainly agree," the older man cut across him, tapping his cane twice more – this time, less patiently. "But with Moreau and Montgomery both departed from this mortal coil, I'm afraid you're the only option we have left."

"You're asking me to work a miracle," came the young man's retort, eyes still skimming over diagram after diagram. "What if I fail? What will this 'Society' of yours do then?"

"We will certainly be… _disappointed._ But we will move on," answered the suited man. "Moreau's brilliance is one of our most valuable assets; this, I know from personal experience. But no man or woman – save One – is irreplaceable. We will find another to shepherd this research."

From his coat pocket, he pulled out a silver pocket watch and checked the time. Its casing was emblazoned with a strange symbol: a pyramid, topped by an eye that shined like the sun.

"Still…" he murmured, eyes upon the slowly ticking hands. "I would prefer it not come to that. Is there harm in at least _trying,_ Mr. Prendick?"

Edward Prendick, the ordinary man whose shipwreck had gotten him caught up in this mess by pure happenstance, placed scratched-up hands over his weary face. Eventually, slowly, he nodded.

"Very well. I will…make the attempt," he said, after a pause. "But I'll need more resources than this wretched 'House of Pain' can provide. Some of which, I don't even know where we would _start_ to acquire them."

He fished one of the papers from the stack and handed it to the older gentleman. "Here, for example," he went on. "I believe this page outlines the solution within which the brain is suspended. It's a very sophisticated formula, but this compound here…I've never _seen_ chemistry so complex."

The other man had to scrutinize the symbols and numbers for a moments, before something clicked.

"Ah, _that's_ what I was forgetting," he remarked, his lip curling upward slightly. "Good catch, young lad. Your puzzle won't fit together at all without _this_ little piece."

He pulled an object from another one of his suit pockets: a small glass phial, unlabeled. At first glance, it seemed to contain nothing more than ordinary water. But as it caught the bright medical lights of the laboratory, a brief refraction entered Prendick's eyes, and he stopped cold.

It lasted so briefly, no more than a second, and yet it was unquestionably the greatest second of his entire life. In that fleeting glimpse, he saw _everything._ He saw light, and he saw darkness. He saw beautiful hope, and he saw endless despair. He saw the past, and the present, and all things yet to come.

He saw what he _needed_ to do.

"So be it, Mr. Doyle," he said, as he began gathering up the necessary supplies. "Let's get started."

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Let's just say…" quipped Elisa Maza, unable to think of anything cleverer. "That I've got some questions."

Words resonated from the Doctor's computerized voice box. "With due respect to you, Detective Maza, time is not a resource we have in abundance," he told her, the machine somehow managing to perfectly capture a tone of intense impatience. "This will come out harsher than is perhaps necessary, but you and the gargoyle are… _extraneous,_ to the needs of this project. Apologies…but you were simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

"Process of elimination, I guess that means the mutates and Sevarius _weren't_ 'extraneous,' then," said Elisa, crossing her arms. "And what kind of sick _project_ are you talking about here?"

But the Doctor didn't answer her immediately. Instead he continued to hover forward, an inch or so above the ground, before abruptly "turning" toward his servant.

Since there was nothing to distinguish the front of his "body" from any other side – no head or face, nor even a facsimile of one – this looked more than a little strange.

"Montgomery, return to the control room. I've stabilized the female for now, but continue to monitor her vital signs closely. Labor could commence at any moment," he ordered coolly. "And keep an eye on our friends in the city, if you please. You have my permission to deal with any… _unpleasantness,_ as you see fit."

The Gorilla-Man bowed his head. "Of course, Master," he responded at once.

He began making his way to the panel the Doctor had made his entrance from, but was stopped by one of the scientist's long, metallic tentacles. A single claw at the end of the appendage bent at an angle, and then, with surprising gentleness…

Stroked Montgomery across the cheek.

"Such a good, obedient child. _So_ much better than my last Montgomery," said the Doctor, reminiscing. "A tragic failure, that one. I tried to grant him his namesake's taste for the drink, as an experiment…failing to remember that intemperance was what got the original killed in the first place. Near-human intelligence, a tigrine body, and severe inebriation – really, I should have seen _that_ bad combination coming."

Elisa, for her part, hadn't even the _slightest_ idea how to respond to these latest developments. If it was possible to read body language into someone with no actual body, then _that_ didn't exactly scream "subtle."

She liked to think she kept an open mind about most things. A _very_ open mind. After all, she _was_ basically dating an eight-foot-tall purple rainspout.

But _this_ was…

"Well, if you won't answer the Detective's questions, then it looks like _I'll_ just have to step in," sneered the other doctor in the room, looking quite haughty. "I won't ask about the whole 'brain in a jar' thing because… _well,_ frankly, I get it. Freeing oneself of all the icky mundanities of the human body to focus wholly and entirely on the pursuit of science! Not sure it's really _my_ cup of tea, but I can see the appeal."

Then, his eyes narrowed. "But if you really _are_ who she claims you to be…" he continued on, without missing a beat. "Then I'd like to know how this squares with Wells. I've read the book too, you know. And until tonight…I'd always dismissed it as ludicrous science fiction."

The Doctor waited for Montgomery to disappear from the room before responding.

"Herbert got perhaps…seventy, or eighty percent correct? Intentionally so, mind you. He was working off notes that were deliberately left incomplete," he said. "We met, briefly, when he was a teacher. He showed me early drafts of his work – fantastical stories of time machines and invaders from Mars. When I felt it necessary that a version of my tale exist out in the world…"

"You thought back to your old friend. And figured the best place to hide the truth was in plain sight," Elisa finished for him. "Clever plan…if not very original. The way Brooklyn tells it, there was a _lot_ of that going around in the nineteenth century."

"I wasn't even the only one to use Herbert _himself_ as conveyance," replied the Doctor, moving a tentacle back and forth above his brain, as if alluding to a head being shaken in dismay. "Look up Thomas Marvel some time – he has _stories._ "

Sevarius drummed his fingers impatiently upon the table next to him. "I saw your notes, you know. Back when I was studying at Oxford," he stated with a frown. "Back then, I assumed Wells had discovered the same, and exaggerated the details. No other explanation made sense."

The Doctor was silent for a moment. Then, calmly, he asked, "And why would you say this is so?"

"Because of the _time!_ The level of technology! By modern standards, you were playing with the equivalent of twigs and rocks!" exclaimed Sevarius, gesticulating wildly with his arms. "How could you have made such strides in the days before De Vries? Before Bateson or Pearson? Before anyone had even mapped a single bloody chromosome? How did you make a plaything out of DNA _before DNA was even a field of study?!_ "

"My my, Doctor Sevarius. You are the last individual from whom I'd expect _this_ sort of reaction," said the Doctor, not responding to Anton's heightened emotions with any of his own. Though admittedly, Elisa wasn't sure his voice box was even _capable_ of expressing such a thing. "Weren't you the man who discovered an entirely unknown taxonomical order, and successfully cloned _multiple_ subjects, while the rest of the world was wrestling with the ethics of sheep?"

The geneticist pursed his lips and looked askance, but muttered out, "…Touché."

"Still, you are not entirely wrong," the Doctor admitted, after a somewhat lengthy pause. "While my methods have certainly evolved to keep with the changing times, I'll admit that the procedures that once filled these halls were far more…we'll call them _crude._ By all modern scientific understanding, vivisection alone should _not_ achieve the results that it did. No matter how expertly practiced."

One of his tentacles suddenly stretched out, and Elisa flinched involuntarily as she wondered what sinister tool he was reaching for.

She felt somewhat nonplussed as the metallic appendage pulled back, revealing that it held an ordinary TV remote.

A click of his claw turned on a screen on the other side of the laboratory, which both humans turned to. Displayed on the television was a rotating set of images, flashing on-screen for a few seconds at a time. All were scenic vistas, tropical forests and water-soaked cliffs.

"The key, quite literally, is location," said the Doctor. "Decades upon decades of study, and the full details _still_ elude me. But there is… _something,_ about this Island. A factor that allows breakthroughs that can only be called miracles. Perhaps you think me daft, for a _scientist_ to speak of such things. But I have seen it with my own eyes – when I had them."

"You're talking about magic," Elisa surmised shrewdly.

"And what is 'magic,' but a word for forces we have yet to fully explain?" returned the vivisectionist. "Certainly, it is capable of being studied. Its effects are predictable and repeatable. Based upon your battle with Lord Oberon last summer, even sorcery generated by the Master of the Third Race must bow before the Law of Conversation of Energy."

"You, uh…know about that?" the policewoman couldn't help herself from asking.

His voice box was silent for several moments, before ultimately rumbling, "My colleagues are… _very_ well-informed."

The Doctor let those words hang in the air for a while, before gesturing back toward the screen. Now the Island's deceptively picturesque beaches, complete with the moonlit ocean and crashing waves, were the subject of his "slideshow."

"In the year 1790, an enormous landmass suddenly appeared in the middle of the Pacific Ocean," he went on, as the images flashed by. "And then, before the next sunrise, it vanished again beneath the waves. When all was said and done, only the peak of a single mountain remained above the water."

He paused for a moment, retracting his tentacles. They made a low, whirring sound as they shrunk close to his body, giving the impression that he was tensing up.

"This event, naturally, resulted in substantial seismic activity. But in the days before satellite imaging or the modern seismograph, the source was impossible for ordinary instruments to track," he said. "Nevertheless…there are eyes to which _nothing_ escapes notice. They claimed the newly formed Island – the last vestige of a lost continent. And when their chief researcher, disgraced from the world of academia, required a new base, to explore and experiment to his heart's content…they granted it to him as a boon."

"Nice story," Elisa commented dryly. "So does this horror-show have a name, or is it literally just 'the Island'? Because that's gotta have been a bitch to trademark."

"Over the years, this Island has taken on many titles," answered the Doctor. "Lincoln Island. Angel Island. Orofena. R'lyeh. Often, it is as if it _beckons_ the lost and the wary to its shores. Swallows them up, never to return to the outside world. You will find it on no map, no sea chart. But it has claimed more lives than any killer in history…one way or another."

"Oh, of all the ridiculous…!" sputtered Anton. "I'll grant the existence of something you peons _call_ 'magic.' A form of energy that current instruments simply aren't able to properly measure. But you're talking as if the land we're standing on is somehow… _alive._ "

"An apt description, all things considered," the Doctor cut off his counterpart. "Certainly, there is a sort of… _power_ here. A power that has ill-defined, but well-documented, effects on living tissue. That allows my subjects – human _or_ beast – to withstand surgeries that would surely otherwise be lethal."

The Doctor seemed to take that as a segue, as his tentacle clicked the remote once more. Suddenly, the vacation-esque photos of the Island's scenery were replaced by images of a far different nature.

All the previous pictures had been utterly devoid of non-plant life, but these were _teeming_ with it. Men, women, and children roamed the forests and beaches now, running and playing and falling all about one another.

And every single one resembled her brother _far_ more than they did her.

Even after seeing "Curtis" and "Montgomery" for herself, the sheer breadth and variety of these beasts-turned-men had Elisa catching her breath. Just about every animal she could imagine, from pigs to donkeys to kangaroos, had an antecedent or two on the Island, stuffed in ill-fitting clothing and carrying around objects like rusty golf clubs or broken power tools as if they were sacred artifacts.

 _Then_ he showed her an image of what could only be their home.

Groupings of a few dozen creatures were replaced by an aerial shot of at least a few _hundred._ These ones hustled and bustled along cramped dirt roadways, and in and out of crude dwellings, held up with only stones and sticks.

It was almost like one of those old Disney or Warner cartoons, where an entire city was populated by a cheery array of smiling anthropomorphic animals. Except none of _these_ poor beasts was driving around a car, or selling ice cream on the street.

And not a single one happened to be _smiling,_ either.

As the images continued to flash, one after another, it struck Elisa just how utterly _miserable_ all the creatures looked. They scuttled about from place to place, doing simple jobs or else just loitering around, staring off into space.

Others – the ones whose bodies had to be twisted the most to fit a humanoid frame – looked to be in a state of perpetual pain. Some of the more mangled ones showed up in one photograph, and then never again.

"You're a monster," she found herself saying, her voice low but deeply affected. "How could you _do_ something like this? Impose your sick experiments on all these innocents?"

"Have you been watching the images? Have you _seen_ what these Beast Folk have managed to accomplish, with only minor prodding on my part?" asked the Doctor. "I'll grant that there have been… _stumbling blocks_ along the way. But that is no reason to discount the miracles performed here. Or to deny the society they built from the ground up, with their own hands, paws, and claws."

"You speak almost as if you… _care_ for your test subjects," sneered Sevarius, wagging his pointer finger back and forth. "A big no-no in the fields of science, as you really _should_ know. Getting too attached always winds up biasing the results."

"You have… _no_ idea, Doctor Sevarius," said the Doctor, forcing Elisa to reevaluate her initial assumption. It seemed his voice box very much _could_ express intense emotion – and it was radiating out in waves right now. "Believe me, if I sincerely thought the best thing for the Beast Folk was to allow nature to run its course, and for them all to revert to what they once were…I would do it in a heartbeat. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"And how can you be so sure _you_ know what's best for them?" Elisa demanded.

The claws of all four tentacles clicked together twice, as if displeased with this question.

"It is simple, Detective Maza. I _asked_ them," he told her, sounding more than a bit cross. "A century ago, this Island stood at a crossroads. The events chronicled by Wells had… _changed_ me, profoundly. Ultimately, I left it to a vote. Things could no longer remain as they once were…but I left it to the Beast Folk to decide their own fate."

There was a soft _clack,_ as the Doctor set down his remote. The images on the screen had reached their end, and were now cycling back to the beginning.

"To be sure, I made my own reforms. This House of Pain became a House of Salvation; the methods practiced here, far more humane," he continued to explain. "But the Beast Folk were all but unanimous: they did not _want_ me to rescind the Gift. And really, would you _expect_ any other choice? Detective, how would _you_ feel if you were asked to relinquish your very sapience? All the things that make you 'Elisa Maza'? How would you feel to lose your mind, and your reasoning, and your very _identity_ …and return to the dirt as nothing more than a simple animal?"

"That…That's different," she attempted to argue back, though at the moment she was having troubling articulating _why._ "I mean…"

"But _is_ it, though? Does the _method_ by which intelligent life arises truly matter? You, who counts among her friends a clan of clones grown in petri dishes, and ghosts in cybernetic shells?" he said, pressing her. Elisa felt the urge to ask how this maniac knew so much about her, but on second thought almost _didn't_ want to know. "Regardless of the _how_ or the _why,_ the Beast Folk exist. They are thinking, reasoning individuals. And allowing them to revert fully would mean _murdering_ those individuals."

Suddenly, he rounded on Anton Sevarius, his tentacles spreading out lightning-fast in a circle around the geneticist, giving the impression that he was trapped.

"Which, _finally,_ brings us to the reason you're here," he added, his voice now chillingly cold – even _without_ the added reverberation of the machine. "It is time for you to prove your worth, Doctor Sevarius. Time for you to assist me."

"Assist you with… _what,_ pray tell?" asked the geneticist, a haughty eyebrow rising. But Elisa could tell the proximity of the tentacles' _very_ sharp claws was making him sweat, just a bit.

The Doctor was silent for a single moment, before responding, "With saving my children."

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"I… _appreciate_ what you have shown me, Sayers," said Goliath carefully. "But I am afraid I must continue returning to the same objection. If I had a way to help with your plight, I would."

He was walking away from the waterfront alongside the trio of elderly Beast Folk; the Cheetah-Woman, Minerva, had disappeared once more, as she seemed wont to do. The Sayers had managed to calm the crowd after the "incident" with Barry the Shark-Man, but it was clear everyone in the vicinity was still on edge, after having to cage yet _another_ of their fellows.

"With any luck, Goliath, you won't have to," replied Walter, trying to sound upbeat despite the oppressive mood of the city. "Your Other Doctor, and his folk…with their help, _surely_ the Doctor can make the breakthrough that's eluded him so long. The Gift can be rendered permanent, and you'll all be returned home, safe and sound. Everyone wins!"

Based on context, the gargoyle supposed the "Other Doctor" could only be Sevarius.

"But, just in case…" added Vance, pulling nervously at his little green hat. "There was a reason we asked Minerva to bring us one of your group. It's time we showed him, fellow Sayers."

At these words, however, Clarence sprung forward. He spread out his upper limbs – part arm, part wing, all of it a mangled mess – as if to block their path, and warbled something screeching but unintelligible.

"Even if I can't understand your words, old friend, your meaning is clear. But we have no choice," declared the Mouse-Man. "My faith in the Doctor is absolute, but Vance is correct. Should the Other Doctor fail to deliver, or if the solution they arrive at cannot be completed in time…we _must_ have a backup plan. The Law cannot end with us."

Clarence looked at them both sourly, his inflamed temper so obvious that it almost seemed to turn his white feathers red. But ultimately, reluctantly, he stepped aside.

"You, Goliath, are about to witness something very few of our brethren have ever laid eyes on," said Walter, as he led the group into the forest bordering Beast Folk City. "Even many of the folk who helped _build_ it, have no idea of its true nature. Each component was constructed separately, and then combined afterward."

"We knew that some might consider this project… _transgressive._ Especially coming from their own Sayers," Vance admitted. He cast a sideways glance toward Clarence, who returned it twice as hard.

"Nevertheless, the highest duty of our people is to the Law," whispered Walter, his voice low but full of conviction. "If the last of us lose ourselves completely, then the Law will be in tatters. Which is why, several months ago…we secretly commissioned _this._ "

The Mouse-Man pulled aside a large frond with his gloved hand, and revealed an enclosed clearing. One taken up almost entirely by an enormous contraption.

It took Goliath several moments of looking upon the construct, before he realized what it was supposed to be…

A flying machine.

To be fair, it only scarcely resembled the airplanes Goliath saw every night in Manhattan, or the helicopter Lexington had modified for their battle with Jackal and Hyena. It was clearly a far cruder model, compiled from whatever materials happened to be handy.

Its body was long and white, with a blue tip at the "nose," and seats for at least a hundred passengers laid out in cramped, uneven rows. A fat, bright-red balloon was tethered above the aircraft by a set of straps, while yellowish wings and fins jutted out in various directions, connected to the body by worn-looking metal hinges. The entire construct was currently suspended a short distance off the ground, propped up by its landing gear – which looked, for all the world, to be a pair of oversized toilet plungers.

"I realize that, to an inhabitant of the modern world, this device must seem utterly primitive," said Vance, leaving Goliath to stew in the acute irony of that statement. "We had only pictures in books to guide our planning. There's a good chance it will never fly at all."

"You're…too cynical…my Sayer…!" called out a voice from the direction of the machine. A moment later, a head popped out from between the seats. It was another of the mouse-like Beast Folk, dressed in a purple jumpsuit and holding a wrench. "This baby…is…almost finished! Just a few…more adjustments…"

Though she shared the same halted, pained speech of the majority of the Beast Folk, there was an enthusiasm baked into it that was difficult to discount.

"Ah, good timing. Goliath, this is Dessie, chief engineer of this project. She's the only non-Sayer who's been allowed to work on the completed machine," explained Walter. "She's always shown great aptitude for this sort of thing."

"But…I'm still only…self-taught…" remarked the Mouse-Woman, deflecting the praise, as she lowered herself out of the vehicle. "Now that…you're here…I was hoping…you might…have some…advice…"

Goliath lowered his head slightly. "I understand your reasoning now," he murmured. "But I am afraid I must disappoint you once again. I am originally of the tenth century, and have only lived in this era for a few years. I know almost nothing of advanced machinery. Perhaps if you had another of my clan, Lexington…"

Clarence crossed his wings/arms, an expression on his beaked face that could only be called "smug."

"That is certainly… _disappointing_ to hear," said Vance, ignoring his avian friend. "When the Doctor told us he'd be bringing outsiders to the Island for the first time in generations, we saw this as the perfect opportunity to get an expert's opinion on our machine."

"Still, the time may come when we truly don't have a choice," Walter told the gargoyle morosely. "If the last embers of hope disappear from this Island, this device is capable of transporting dozens of our brothers and sisters. With any luck, they'll reach the human nation the books call 'Oz-trail-ee-uh.' And from there…"

"You will reveal yourselves to the world," Goliath finished for him, realizing their plan. "And hope that their technologies will be able to solve the puzzle the Doctor cannot."

"One, last, desperate ploy," whispered Vance, his snout and ears drooping. "There are a million things that could go wrong. But…it's better than just giving up."

Clarence made a sharp noise that might have been something like a laugh.

"At least we're trying _something!_ " exclaimed Walter, suddenly rounding on the Duck-Man. "What have _you_ done since losing your words, except sit around and judge our efforts? Do you _want_ the Law to die, Clarence?"

More unintelligible duck-noises, these ones far more heated, followed. Walter and Clarence were now in each other's faces, with Vance stuck helplessly in the middle, and Dessie standing off to the side, clenching her wrench in fear.

"Quiet, both of you!" said Goliath sternly, his instincts as a clan leader pricked by their argument. "I…understand why frustrations and tempers would be running high between you. But those emotions bring you no closer to a solution."

"He's right, brothers," Vance quickly seized on his words. "Let's just…calm down. I'm sure there's still a way for the outsiders to help us, even if this one cannot."

Goliath frowned a bit at his phrasing, but tried not to take it personally. He would be quite a hypocrite to get upset now.

Instead, he asked the question that had been bothering him for several minutes, "Why have you kept this project secret from your 'Doctor'? If you truly hold him in such high esteem?"

At this, all of the Beast Folk but Clarence looked askance.

"Not sure…he would…understand…" Dessie breathed out, her words coming out with even more difficulty than usual, as if even _expressing_ qualms with their progenitor caused her pain.

"As I told you before, we hope that all this turns out to be unnecessary. The Doctor is brilliant beyond countenance. He may yet surprise us with a miracle we couldn't _possibly_ comprehend," said Walter. "But time is short for our people, and we must make hard choices. I'm just not sure there's a way to express that to the Doctor, without seeming as if we… _doubt_ in his capabilities."

"To an observing eye, building this machine must almost seem a…a _betrayal_ of his trust," muttered Vance. "The trust of the one who's given us so much, and asked for nothing in return. I couldn't bear to see how he might react. The… _shame_ he would surely feel."

"That's why, for now…this project must remain a secret," stated Walter firmly. "At this crucial time, we cannot afford any misunderstandings."

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

It took Maggie the Cat several minutes to realize she was awake.

To be perfectly fair, the "real world" still didn't feel all that different from the hazy dreams she'd been drifting through for some time now. She had just enough self-awareness to know she was _swimming_ in drugs – even more so than the last time she remembered waking up.

Her memories of that last bout of consciousness were still pretty clouded, but she was pretty sure she remembered two male voices conversing about… _something._ Bits and pieces, snippets of words here and there drifted through her mind.

 _Minerva…Collar…The Law…_

None of it made any sense to her. Instead, she concentrated on trying to take in her surroundings.

They were still pretty blurry, even for her enhanced feline eyes, but the general shape of things was starting to come to her. There were bright lights directly overhead, forcing her to squint, and indeed cold whites and metallic silvers were the only colors she was able to single out from the walls, or from the… _equipment?_

Yes…that was the right word. Equipment. There was quite a bit of it – some of which she appeared to be connected to.

Was this a hospital, then?

That would make sense, given her current state. She felt a convulsion in her lower body, and though it was dulled significantly by the anesthesia, she recognized it immediately for what it was: a contraction.

She was going to give birth soon. _Very_ soon. She had a distinct, if inexplicable, feeling that it was coming within the hour.

Of course, none of that explained how she'd gotten here from the Labyrinth. Or where Derek was. Or Elisa, or Goliath, or Claw, or Thug, or little Benny and Erin…

Memories of that sickly green gas, of the cackling, overdramatic voice which still haunted her dreams far more often than she'd ever admit to Derek, flooded back in. Wherever her boyfriend and the rest of the "birthing party" had gone, Sevarius was _surely_ involved. Which meant they were in danger.

In her condition, she doubted there was all that much she could do for them. She wasn't much of a fighter at the best of times, and while _this_ numb and drugged-up, she wasn't sure she could even summon up a single lightning blast.

But dammit, she had to _try._

"You shouldn't be moving," called out a voice from elsewhere in the room, as soon as she began trying to sit up.

The sudden noise would've made Maggie jump, if her body was currently capable of such things. Slowly, groggily, she turned her head to the side, where a big black blob filled her field of vision.

Her eyes took a few moments to adjust, before the blob came into focus. Not that this wound up making things any clearer.

Because what met her eyes was a figure who appeared to be half-man, half-gorilla, wearing a red beret and army fatigues, and concentrating closely on a set of computer monitors.

"Who…Who are you…?" she said weakly.

"The name I was graciously granted is 'Montgomery.' Latest and most favored, in a noble line who have served Master for generations," he answered. She realized, belatedly, that his was one of the two voices she'd overheard last time she was awake. "Now, lay back down, if you would. Master would have my head if anything happened to you or the child."

"What is this place?" asked Maggie, now feeling a bit more cognizant of herself. "What am I doing here? And where is…?"

"It is enough for you to know that this is a safe place," Montgomery cut her off, his tone soft but firm. "If you were about to ask after your friends or paramour, then they too are safe. Master had no intention of harming any of you."

"Who's this 'Master' you keep talking about?" she demanded, refusing to lay her head down again – even though the soft, pillowy hospital bed she was seated upon beckoned her like a whispering temptress. "And what does he want with me? With Derek?"

Montgomery didn't turn away from his monitors, but he did stiffen noticeably.

"How does one describe Master in but a few words? It is like trying to sum up a great painting with a single sentence," he said. "His brilliance shines with the fury of a thousand suns. Never has there been a mind like his, in the long history of mankind – and never will there be again. You, Beast-Woman, may call him by the title 'Doctor.' For _his_ is the hand that makes. _His_ is the hand that heals. _His_ is the lightning flash and the deep, salt sea. _His_ are all the stars in the sky."

"I _have_ a name, and it's Maggie Reed," she snapped. His flowery, almost religious poetics were rubbing her the wrong way right now. "Anyway, this 'Doctor.' He's the one who turned you into… _this?_ "

She gestured awkwardly toward the Gorilla-Man's body. Not that she could move her arm very far, as there were several IVs stuck in it.

"Master granted me the Gift of knowledge and wisdom far beyond my ken, yes," responded Montgomery. "A Gift for which I am eternally grateful. A Gift for which _you_ should be grateful…even if your doctor pales in comparison to mine."

"H…How _dare_ you?!" Maggie snarled, and for a moment she heard more of the lioness in her voice than she ever had before. "I should be _grateful_ for being Sevarius' oversized guinea pig? I didn't ask for _any_ of this! I've made my peace with what happened…found a new life, and a new family. But don't think for a _second_ that, if I had a way to go back…!"

"And why would you?" the Gorilla-Man shot back, still without looking at her. "You and I are more than man _or_ beast. The strengths of both. The weaknesses of neither. We are the next evolution of life, crafted at the anvil of science."

"There's more to life than just being… _strong._ Or smart. Or able to shoot electricity out of your fingertips," said Maggie. "I'm betting when you were human, you understood that. But your 'Master' has you so brainwashed, you've forgotten."

This, finally, was what got Montgomery to tear his eyes away from the display, and face her. His expression – what could be read of it, given his misshapen face – seemed halfway between confused and scornful.

"I was never _human,_ " he sneered disdainfully. "It's my brothers and sisters who hold fast to such low and petty dreams. I've outgrown the need for such things…just so long as I get to stay by Master's side."

Maggie's next words died in her throat. She got the distinct sense _both_ of them were missing something pretty major, but she wasn't sure exactly how to articulate it.

It wound up being a moot point, however, as Montgomery's attention was swiftly drawn back to the console by a set of beeps.

"What is this…?" he muttered to himself, quietly enough that Maggie had to strain to hear him. "The Sayers' collars have all left the city limits. They were with the outsider, last I checked. So where are they _taking_ him?"

The Gorilla-Man tapped at several keys in sequence with his overlarge fingers, causing the images on the screens to change. Maggie was too far away to get a good look, even by craning her neck, but they seemed to be… _camera feeds?_

"What secrets are you trying to hide from me, you old rat?" said Montgomery, peering carefully at the feed from one of the screens. "Is this the reason you had Minerva move against us in the first place?"

For the next few minutes, her captor was silent, watching the screen so closely that he barely blinked. At first he showed no visible reaction, but the longer she looked on, the more his upper lip receded, baring his gritted teeth. If the nature shows she'd watched as a kid were to be believed, that meant his aggression was rising rapidly.

At last, Montgomery rose to full height, utter rage radiating off him in waves.

"Those… _traitors_ …" he growled, his breaths coming out heavy and seething. "They would _dare_ turn their backs on their creator? After all Master's done for them…all he's _sacrificed_ … _!_ "

He was still for several moments, as if contemplating something. Then, he began typing at the console again, far more vigorously.

"Hold on," Maggie tried to intervene, hating how weak her voice sounded. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching a lesson," replied the Gorilla-Man, less than helpfully. "A lesson about what happens to those who try to escape the eyes of the Law."

The mutate didn't know exactly what that meant, but she _really_ didn't like the tone he'd used to say it.

"Master gave me permission to handle any problems as _I_ see fit," he said, as he continued to pound at the keys as if they'd done him some great, personal wrong. "And I believe a crime of this magnitude requires a punishment _just_ as extreme."

Maggie would've attempted a response to this, but at that moment another contraction seized her, far more violently this time. She fell back against her pillow, losing her train of thought completely as the morphine drip hit her brain again.

A moment later, she sunk back into a hazy doze.

[-]

The pregnant woman didn't realize that her captor had been timing the convulsions. Eight minutes apart now, he noted. Master had asked to be summoned once they reached five.

But that wasn't where the bulk of Montgomery's focus was centered.

They'd built a machine. A way to _escape._ A way to leave the Island, and the Law, behind.

Never mind that the misshapen monstrosity was liable to crash and get them all killed. If anything, that only made it _worse._ It showed where the priorities of those ungrateful cowards _truly_ lay – that they were willing to risk certain death, just to be "free" of Master's guiding hand.

Not that Master had actually possessed "hands" in the living memory of any currently surviving Beast Folk, of course. But recitals of the Law lost something with " _his_ is the tentacle that heals…" substituted in.

The thought almost made Montgomery chuckle ruefully. _Almost._ His primary mood right now was still cold, abject fury.

If he was just trying to sabotage the flying machine, his course of action would've been simple: punish the Sayers (and Dessie, and possibly Minerva, who seemed to be helping them) via their collars, while at the same time sending a few of the larger, more loyal Beast Folk to wreck up the abomination. Wayne and Rosie, perhaps.

But this was about more than the treachery of four or five Beast Folk. There was no telling _how_ many of their brethren had collaborated, knowingly or otherwise, in the construction of that unholy thing. And even if it was truly only _their_ sin…

An example _had_ to be made.

The first thing Montgomery did was disconnect his own collar from the network. He felt a little guilty doing so – punishing others for abusing Master's trust, when he was arguably doing just the same – but it wouldn't do for his to go off in the middle of things. And he'd make sure to apologize to Master and ask for forgiveness later.

Then, with a few more keystrokes, he completed his task.

Without the slightest hesitation, he smashed down the final button.

[-]

All across the Island, every last active collar began blinking red.


	5. Episode V: Uracil

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode V: Uracil**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **December 21, 1996**

If the Doctor still had a head, he would've shaken it in dismay.

"These results tell one story, and one story alone," he said, his digitized voice echoing throughout the cold, sterilized laboratory. "The efficacy of my procedures decreases exponentially with each repetition. There is only one conclusion: my Beast Folk are developing an immunity."

He "stood" above one of those Folk now, a Lion-Man with a bushy red mane and golden fur. Despite the Doctor's best efforts, he'd died on the operating table.

The results of his autopsy flashed through the Doctor's brain now, a series of electrical impulses absorbed through a process far deeper and more involved than something like sight. In an instant, they were cross-referenced with information he'd absorbed from hundreds, _thousands_ of other cases.

None of that information bode well.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Master," Montgomery insisted at once. "You've always done the best you could for my brethren. They will understand."

"I don't want their 'understanding.' I want my children _saved,_ " replied the Doctor. "And I will go to _any_ length to achieve that goal. It is the least they deserve."

The Gorilla-Man placed one, overlarge hand upon his partner's cylindrical container, slowly caressing it in an attempt to provide comfort.

"You can't _only_ think about their needs, Master. What about your own?" he asked tenderly. "I've seen you working in here for the past five days. When was the last time you rested?"

The Doctor used one of his metallic tentacles to shake off the hand, gently but firmly. "That's one key advantage of my current state, Montgomery," he said. "I don't _need_ to rest."

But of course, that was a lie. The brain was capable of exhaustion, same as any other physical organ. The fact that his swam in a solution that was ten parts saline to one part Holy Grail water…hardly changed things.

"Sometimes I wonder," he added after a few moments, somehow managing to chuckle darkly despite the lack of a throat. "Whether _he_ would've had any more success. Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever quite measure up to his genius."

"Perhaps, Master," whispered Montgomery, now lacing thick, leathery fingers between the claws on one tentacle. "But you have… _other_ qualities. Qualities that make me want to follow you to the ends of the Earth."

The Doctor queued up the next words to send to his voice box, but didn't release them. _This_ Montgomery was always catching him by surprise. But then…that was what he _loved_ about his Beast Folk.

There was only so much of a personality that could be "programmed" – by hypnotism early in his career, and through machine learning as computer technology became more and more advanced. Once he got his children started, they were sent off into the wilds of the Island, to develop on their own.

He hadn't intended Barry's talent for humor. Debbie's mechanical aptitude. Minerva's surprising intelligence. They'd all found those parts of themselves, all on their own.

And while of course he'd needed an intelligent, competent assistant to replace the last, a role each successive "Montgomery" had served for the past century…

He'd never planned for this one to be such a romantic.

Still…there was a time and place for that sort of thing, and that _wasn't_ now. He had work to do. Ignoring something like a sharp pang in his amygdala, he extracted his claw from the Gorilla-Man's grip.

"It's been a hundred years since the name 'Doctor Moreau' has been spoken on this Island," said the Doctor. "But perhaps it is time it live on…in a spiritual disciple."

One tentacle reached behind him, and began fishing through a pile of papers on his desk. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, and tossed it unceremoniously at Montgomery's feet.

It was a cheap-looking periodical, with garish colors and simple, attention-grabbing headlines – a boldfaced exclamation point punctuating each one. But what were even _more_ attention-grabbing were the pictures on the cover.

They purported to show a beastlike man with feline features and deep-brown fur; a visage not all _that_ dissimilar from the poor creature who lay dead, just a few feet away. And the caption below…

 _FANG! WANTED! FANG! HE'S REAL – AND DANGEROUS!_

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Elisa furrowed her nose at the tabloid that'd just been placed in front of her, as if smelling something distasteful.

"When I asked how you found out about Sevarius and the mutates in the first place…I _really_ didn't expect you to pull a back issue of _The Daily Tattler,_ " she said. "But I guess it's important you cover all your bases with the top scientific journals. _Nature._ The _Lancet._ And of course, the rag that reported Elvis just had a baby with the Creature from the Black Lagoon." 

"If you knew as much as I did about the _Tattler's_ 'editorial board,' you might consider it in a slightly different light," responded the Doctor, though he didn't elaborate. "Nevertheless, do you deny the veracity of its basic claims? I had Montgomery silently observe your 'Labyrinth' for weeks, and while this 'Fang' was nowhere to be found…he did obtain _six_ diverse specimens. Seven, if Doctor Sevarius' handiwork turns out to be inheritable."

"Something I'm very eager to find out myself," Anton piped up, one finger held up dramatically in the air. "So if you'll kindly point me in the direction of the expecting young mum…"

"Sit. _Down,_ " commanded the Doctor, cutting him off. He punctuated the point by once again surrounding the geneticist with all his tentacles at once, each claw glinting beneath the fluorescent lights.

Anton gulped, and wisely obeyed.

"Naturally, I've already collected DNA samples from each of your creations. And rest assured, Detective Maza, _none_ of them have been harmed in the process," he continued on. "They're being analyzed by my computer systems as we speak, but in the meantime…"

Once again, Elisa winced as a tentacle reached across her for some unknown piece of technology. And once again, she felt rather nonplussed as it was placed in front of Doctor Sevarius, and turned out to be…

An ordinary tape recorder.

"Describe the process by which you developed your own Beast Folk. Or…'mutates,' as you seem to call them," he said, a claw resting over the _RECORD_ button. "Leave out no details that could conceivably be pertinent."

Elisa could tell Anton's first instinct was to be haughty and dismissive – but it was one he deliberately suppressed, given that all three of the _other_ tentacles still rested less than a foot from his face.

Instead, trying to sound jocular, he quipped, "Well, err…you know what they say about a magician and his secrets…"

Lightning-quick, one of the tentacles struck forward, slicing Sevarius across the face. It only grazed the scientist, by the very tiniest of margins, but blood still trickled down from a thin line along his cheek.

"I wasn't _asking,_ " growled the Doctor, and that was actually what it sounded like – a synthesized, but no less ferocious, growl. "You've caught me in a _very_ desperate situation, Doctor Sevarius. So keep in mind that while the safety of my children remains my highest priority… _your_ safety does not."

Anton gritted his teeth for several moments. Then, his eyes still closed, he breathed out, "This will be… _difficult,_ to do entirely from memory. Without my notes I'm bound to mix up dates and procedural details. Even _my_ mind has limits."

"Oh, I will most _certainly_ be confiscating your notes the moment I have the opportunity. Currently, most of them are property of Gen-U-Tech Systems – a subsidiary of Xanatos Enterprises. And you are not the only acquaintances whom Mr. Xanatos and I hold in common," said the Doctor. "In the meantime, just provide what you can. I can always cross-reference later."

The geneticist let out a long sigh. "I can honestly say, this is _worst_ working environment I've ever been forced to endure after being kidnapped. Which is actually a rather hard list to crack," he declared, to no one in particular. "Ah, blast it. Just push the bloody button."

The Doctor wasted no time in doing so, and Sevarius cleared his throat.

" _Ahem_ …research log for 97-06-08, time unknown, because it seems _someone_ was too cheap to spring for a simple wall clock in their laboratory," he spoke into the recorder, clearly enunciating each word despite his aggrieved tone. "Project Metamorphosis first took form in January of 1995, when David Xanatos approached me about a 'Plan B' in case unexpected complications arose with the concurrent Project Thailog…"

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Of those who were abducted to this place, Talon might be able to provide the most pertinent advice on your flying contraption," said Goliath. "Earlier in life, he was a professional pilot."

"That would be very helpful," replied Walter, his attention perking up. "Do you perhaps know where we could find this 'Talon' of yours?"

"We were separated when your agent, Minerva… _accosted_ me," he told the Sayers, choosing his words carefully. "He was traveling with the rest of the mutates, as well as my human companion, Elisa Maza. In addition to an insidious human scientist, Anton Sevarius."

"That has to be the 'Other Doctor' he spoke of," stated Vance. "The Doctor must have brought him and _his_ Beast Folk to the Island for a reason. In that case, there's only one place he would've taken them."

"The House of Salvation," Walter finished for him, nodding. "It is forbidden for us to enter without an invitation, Goliath, but Minerva could guide you most of the way. If there's a way you could bring your 'Talon' back here with you, without alerting the Doctor to our machine…"

But his words were cut off, as a gloved hand flew to his neck. Goliath looked on as the Mouse-Man began to tug and scratch at the metallic black collar encircling it.

"Is…something the matter?" he asked.

"My collar, it feels… _odd,_ somehow…" said Walter. Those were the only words he had time to speak before a light on the collar began to blink bright red.

Within the space of a few seconds, the same thing happened to the collars worn by Vance, Clarence, and Debbie. All fell quickly to their knees – except for the Duck-Man, who outright collapsed onto his back, warbling unintelligibly.

"Hurts… _hurts_ …" was all Debbie was capable of choking out, as she twitched back and forth, wrench lying forgotten on the ground as she pawed at the collar with both "hands."

Indeed, all four of the Beast Folk seemed to be reacting as if they were in excruciating pain. Walter and Debbie gasped and moaned, while Vance's cries quickly became a series of sharp, mangled barks.

But before Goliath could even _think_ to do anything to intervene, a loud, deep voice rang out through the air. Its source was unclear, but the sheer fury in every word was enough to nearly make _him_ stumble.

" _This voice represents the Doctor's will. He of the sky and the sea and the great green grass. He who granted you all the Gift of life, and the Law that guides it. He who heals your every mark and wound."_

" _Yet there are those among you who have chosen to reward that Gift…with_ treachery. _Lies and deceit. Even now, they craft a malevolent device with which to escape His glory."_

" _For this crime, there can be no punishment but pain. Pain for_ all _of you. Remember that His is the hand that hurts…but_ only _so you can be healed further. You cannot be saved while such sins remain unanswered."_

" _And so, this pain will not cease…until that device lies in ruins. And until the transgressors lie bleeding on the ground."_

" _Find your Sayers. Find any who aid them. Find the outsider whom they have drafted to their cause."_

" _And kill them_ all. _"_

" _This command is the Doctor's will."_

The voice fell away, as suddenly as it came. And as it did, Goliath had only a split-second to dodge before a wrench could cave in his skull.

A few feet away, Debbie stood, the wrench back within her tight grip. She was panting heavily, still clearly being "disciplined" by the blinking collar.

Her eyes were filled with murder.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Thug and Claw both sat astride a pair of hospital beds, not speaking to one another. Which, admittedly, wasn't unusual in one of their cases, but…

Inwardly, the man going by "Thug" was kicking himself for his utter uselessness. He and Claw had been jumped, taken completely by surprise and knocked unconscious with just a few expert blows. They hadn't even gotten a single shot back in return.

Later they'd awoken in this place – a medical lab, by all appearances – being guarded by the same pair who'd captured them in the first place. One resembled a humanoid goat, complete with curled horns and a scruffy beard, while the other was more akin to a big bipedal pig.

Thug had tried to ask them who they were, or where they'd been taken; it wasn't often one met _another_ set of heavily mutated man-beasts, after all. But either they were unable or unwilling to express human speech, because all he'd gotten in return were stony-eyed stares.

Instead, he was left to figure things out himself. They both had awoken with bandages around their left biceps, and loosening his revealed a small red puncture mark in his reptilian skin.

They'd had their blood drawn while they were unconscious, then. Presumably to sample their DNA. If Sevarius truly _wasn't_ behind all this, then…

The only conclusion he could draw was that the geneticist now had some kind of… _competitor,_ he supposed was the best word. Someone trying to beat him at his own mad scientist game.

Which made this whole mess something like corporate espionage. An attempt to sample the "products" of his opponent, and create something better. But in that case…

Thug growled under his breath. That meant Benny and Erin were almost certainly being poked and prodded too. Not to mention poor, pregnant Maggie. She _had_ to be due within an hour or two, if she hadn't been forced to give birth in this hellhole already.

And all because _he_ hadn't been strong enough to protect them.

Within his crocodilian head, the gears began to turn. The only exit to this room was guarded by their captors, who kept a constant watch over them. It didn't feel as if he'd been sedated, so he and Claw could probably take the pair, if they managed to strike first.

The problem was there didn't seem to be a way to signal Claw about his plan, _without_ tipping off the guards. It'd have been one thing if it was _just_ a fistfight, but both of the beast-men were additionally armed with bulky weapons. Particle beam guns, most likely – like the ones Fang had once used to take over the Labyrinth.

They'd need some kind of distraction to stand any chance of escape.

And that was when both of their captors suddenly doubled over, loosening their grip on their weapons as they fumbled at their necks, each of them in obvious pain.

Thug didn't question their good fortune. He nodded once to Claw, who returned the gesture, and then they leapt onto both guards.

The beast-men struggled and grunted heavily, but were still clearly being affected by whatever was going on with their bodies. Thug briefly took note that each wore a metal collar, upon which a red light was blinking like crazy.

Soon enough they each had an enemy in a chokehold, and though the beast-men thrashed and snarled about, they weren't strong enough to throw them off. Soon enough, the fight was over, just as quick as their last – but with the opposite result.

"We'll jus' leave ya two here ta take a nice li'l nap," said Thug, relieving the Goat-Man of his gun and slinging the strap around his own body.

He then turned to Claw, who was holding the Pig-Man's weapon, and gave him a questioning look. The tiger-mutate slowly shook his head, before tearing the gun cleanly in two.

Thug shrugged a shoulder. "Suit yerself," he responded, without judgment.

Then the pair of them headed out into the hallway, particle gun and electrified claws at the ready.

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Goliath continued to back away as Debbie swung the metal tool through the air, her strikes wild and unhinged.

"Calm down, _please!_ " he implored the Mouse-Woman, reluctant to fight back despite knowing he could end this in an instant if he did. "You need to master yourself!"

But Debbie just wailed a bloodcurdling screech, words utterly forgotten as she struck with mindless ferocity. It seemed she was too far gone for reason…and she was not the only one.

A sharp, metallic clang rang through the forest clearing. Clarence had picked up another of the Mouse-Woman's tools – a lengthy hammer – and was bashing it against the flying machine as hard as he could.

"No, brother…please…" said Walter, forcing the words out through his own, debilitating agony. "We built that wonder… _together_ …with our very own hands…"

He tried to drag himself to his feet, to stop his fellow Sayer, but Vance stayed his hand.

"Maybe…it's better this way…" he groaned, wincing noticeably. "If we dismantle it…perhaps…the Doctor will forgive our sins…"

"No 'sin' was committed!" shouted Goliath, still dodging Debbie's blows. "It is no crime to pursue freedom, and the right to determine your own futures! A right that justly belongs to all intelligent beings!"

"You don't _understand!_ " cried Vance, turning on him. "The Doctor…said that it is wrong! His _will_ …is that it is wrong!"

Walter looked between his fellow Beast Folk, utterly crestfallen; it seemed he was now truly alone in his convictions.

"We…We discussed this…" he attempted to argue, though he seemed to know it was futile. "Was not…this the reason…that we hid from him the machine? That this was…the only way…to preserve the Law he taught us…?"

"But…he _has_ seen it now!" exclaimed Vance, utterly despairing. "And it is…an _abomination_ before his sight! We…We were _wrong,_ brother! We…were _wrong!_ "

And with that, the Dog-Man picked up a tool of his own…and joined in the attempt to smash the contraption to bits. As he did, his sobs of pain – both physical and emotional – became harsher and more animalistic, as he seemed to lose more and more of his mind with each blow.

With no alternative, Walter turned to the gargoyle, a look of abject hopelessness taking over his aged features.

"Then…it seems the battle is truly lost…" he said. "I am…sorry…that we dragged you into all this. Save yourself…Goliath. Before…Before I lose myself too…"

Goliath wanted to argue against this; to find _some_ way to help these poor creatures. But he took one more look in the eyes of the beast-woman currently trying to end his life, and saw none of the cheer or enthusiasm for mechanics that he had just a few minutes ago.

She reared back, and swung again with the wrench, aiming for his head. Goliath stuck out his hand and caught it effortlessly.

"I will not forget you. I will not forget what was lost today," he declared, as he tossed the tool over his shoulder and into the trees. "But now, I must focus on finding this 'House of Salvation.' And saving what _I_ hold dear."

With one last, lingering look at the Beast Folk he was leaving behind, the gargoyle swallowed his pride and turned to leave.

Only to see a mob of over fourscore of their brethren emerging from the trees, baring fangs and claws as they readied to pounce.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

It quickly became clear that what'd happened to Thug's and Claw's captors was not an isolated incident. The bare, white, hospital-like halls echoed with animalistic screeches and growls, which Thug forced himself to ignore.

Whatever was happening to these poor creatures, they didn't have time to help. They _needed_ to find the others.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. As they turned a corner, they ran into a crowd of multicolored, dog-like creatures, who were raising an unholy racket as they snarled and howled in pain. The moment they noticed the mutates, they all turned in their direction in unison, ears perked up.

"More…outsiders…" said the one at the head of the pack, proving that these beast-men _could_ still speak, if with some difficulty. His voice was, nevertheless, surprisingly high-pitched and squeaky. "Get… _them_ … _!_ "

And just like that, two dozen Dog-Men were bounding toward them on all fours, barking for blood.

Thug reacted before he had a chance to think things through. He aimed the weapon at the ceiling and pulled the trigger, allowing the particle beam to rake across the hard tile. It collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris, blocking most of the hallway.

"I doubt that'll hold 'em long!" he shouted to his companion, before the dust had a chance to clear. "C'mon!"

They ran off in the opposite direction, keeping an eye over their shoulders all the while.

As they hurried through the labyrinthine halls (…pun not intended), they ran into several more of the beast-men, though thankfully not in the same numbers as their canine pursuers. Each of them – a fox-like man in a green tunic, a monkey-like man wearing a vest, and a trio of cow-like women wearing nothing at all – had thankfully backed off after a couple of warning shots, by either cannon or Claw's bioelectricity.

Given the obvious pain they were in, Thug didn't think he would've been able to stomach actually _shooting_ any of them. The threat of the gun would need to be enough.

At a certain point, Thug was forced to face the fact that he had absolutely _no_ idea where they were heading. All these hallways looked the same, and there was no signage or distinguishing marks to help them find their way.

And based on the volume of the barks, the Dog-Men were getting closer.

Eventually, inevitably, their journey reached a dead end. Claw turned to him and made an audible gulp – one of the few things he was capable of that _was_ audible.

"Alright, Thug ol' boy…they're all countin' on ya. Gotta _really_ work that noodle," he said, mostly to himself, as he wracked his brain for ideas. "Ya gotta do it fer _them._ Fer those kids…"

Suddenly, his reptilian eyes shot wide open.

Fishing into his pants pocket, he found that his two spells of unconsciousness over the past twenty-four hours had, thankfully, not deprived him of his most prized possession. He pulled out and unfurled a wrinkled piece of paper, folded into fourths.

About three months ago, he'd been in a very dark place. After a lot of aborted fits and starts, he'd attempted to reach out to his estranged brother – the only family he had left in the world.

He'd taken one look at Thug's new face and gone running for the hills.

But even in that awful night, a beacon of light had shown. Benny had seen his despondent face and, without having a clue what was causing it, drawn this picture to try and cheer him up.

It was _awful,_ really, by any objective measure. The snout was longer than the body it was attached to, and the tail looked more like a third foot. Plus, he'd been very limited in the available color palette, so everything was rendered in an odd mix of purple and orange crayon.

None of that mattered, of course. What mattered was the thought behind it, encapsulated in the hastily scrawled caption.

 _TO THUG – THE BEST KROKODYL EVER!_

Erin had used a red crayon to correct the spelling.

He kept this drawing on his person at all times because it helped remind him that, whatever the transformation had cost…it'd given him back just as much.

Because it'd given him the chance to be what two lost, lonely kids needed most in the world.

Nevertheless, this piece of paper was about to serve an additional purpose. Thug held it up to his snout and took a deep whiff. Crocodiles had a fantastic sense of smell – and gaining the DNA of one had greatly expanded his own.

"…Benny's not far," he said, catching the scent at once. "Follow me, Claw."

The other mutate didn't argue (well, mime an argument), covering his rear so Thug could concentrate on the young boy's scent trail. Fortunately, it seemed he'd been taken through this very hallway within the last few hours, so the smell was very fresh.

He went down one passage, then the next, moving at a constant jog to keep ahead of their pursuers. It occurred to him that the Dog-Men could probably follow his scent just as easily as he did Benny's, but he pushed that thought out of his mind.

Those were things he could worry about once he knew the children were safe.

"Gettin' closer… _real_ close…" he muttered to himself. "Feel like we're practically on top o' him…"

And as soon as those words escaped his maw, the wall to their right exploded.

Claw immediately jumped in front of him, both hands crackling with electricity. But as the smoke cleared, the lightning dissipated away to nothing.

Because standing in the newly formed hole, flanked on either side by Benny and Erin, was Talon, the current in his own hands similarly dwindling.

The tiger-mutate immediately rushed forward, capturing his leader in a warm hug. The kids, meanwhile, wasted no time in embracing Thug around his heavily armored waist.

"We knew you'd find us!" exclaimed Erin, positioning herself at an angle so her shell didn't bump into him. "You and Claw didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Nothin' more than a couple scratches," said Thug, returning their hug enthusiastically. "Should be askin' the same ta you two."

"Thankfully, nothing happened," Talon explained, as he shook off the dust from the wall he'd crashed through. "We got captured by this lizard monster right after you two were taken. He used the kids as hostages so Elisa and I couldn't fight back. But then a little while ago, lizard-brain suddenly starts going berserk, which distracted him long enough for me to take him out."

"Same thing happened ta us, more o' less," replied Thug, casting a glance over his shoulder. "An' they weren't alone. Whole _buildin'_ is crawlin' with those were-whatevers. There's a pack of 'em that act like huntin' dogs, an' they got our trail. We gotta be ready when they catch up."

Talon frowned at this news, but nodded his understanding.

"Alright…you two take the kids, and try to find an exit," he told them. "I know where they stashed my sis, so I'll go spring her too, and then find Maggie. We'll meet you outside."

Claw looked rather dismayed at these instructions, and Thug asked, "Ya sure it's a good idea ta split up now? Shouldn't we try ta stick together?"

But the panther-mutate just shook his head. "No sense risking _all_ our lives, if this goes even further south than it already has," he said. "From the look of things, this is basically a warzone right now…and that's no place for kids. So get them outta here, you two. _That's_ an order."

He didn't wait to hear their reply, before rushing out in the same direction they'd just come from, hands burning with energy.

Thug clenched a sharp-clawed fist, but recovered quickly. He turned to the mutated children and whispered, "Alright, ya heard the boss-cat. Let's get movin' before this place gets all wet with dog fur."

Erin looked hesitant, but ultimately fell into step behind him. Benny, however, seemed distracted by something. He tugged on Thug's arm with two of his own, then used them to gesture to the paper still held in his grip.

"You…kept that…?" he mumbled, looking as embarrassed as a woodlouse seemed capable of being.

Thug, in turn, offered them both a wide smile, which he hoped came across as more endearing than threatening.

"Jus' a reminder o' what _really_ matters in life," he answered, stuffing the drawing away in his pocket and then taking hold of the kids with each hand. "Now follow along, y'hear? Yer ol' Uncle Thug is gonna keep ya both safe. An' _that's_ a promise."

[-]

"…And it was at about that point that I realized there was no possible way I could match Mr. Xanatos' timetable, if I tried to create this chimeric creature from scratch," said Sevarius, continuing to recite as much detail as he could into the tape recorder.

At some point, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes in, his initial reluctance had given way to his natural flair for drama. Now he was relating the whole, sordid tale with genuine _relish_ in his voice, while Elisa sat on the sidelines, trying very hard not to vomit.

"I decided to take the work I'd accomplished already, and adapt it into my very first mutagenic formula. A chemical compound designed to bond to human DNA, and replace certain sequences with material of my choosing," the geneticist went on. "For test subjects, I scoured the streets of New York City's homeless population, looking for males whose phenotype best matched the desired parameters. I eventually selected Fred Sykes, age twenty-seven, as well as…"

But before he could continue further, the Doctor's tentacle shot out, the claw closing around Sevarius' cranium. He immediately fell silent.

"Repeat that part for me, Doctor Sevarius," he ordered. While outwardly calm and even, there was a dangerous edge to his tone.

"Erm…which part?" he asked, as sweat pooled beneath each place the points of the claw dug into his scalp. "About my dear, sweet, fantastically gullible test subjects, or…?"

"About your _methods,_ " the Doctor interjected, the small remainders of his patience shedding away in an instant. "Did you just say that all of your Beast Folk used to be _human?_ That you twisted them into their current form with nothing but a simple _injection?_ "

"Well, I'd hardly call any of my formulae _simple,_ " said Sevarius. "But otherwise, you're right on the money."

The Doctor was very still, and very quiet, for long enough that even Sevarius seemed to be getting antsy.

Before he could say anything, however, the other scientist muttered, "…I see." He removed the tentacle from Sevarius' skull and pulled all four of them close to himself. "Excuse me a moment."

Then, without warning, he sent one tentacle crashing straight through a nearby shelf, sending it and its contents clattering to the floor.

Elisa looked on in horror as, one after the other, the Doctor's tentacles thrashed about, demolishing one part of the lab after another. They moved in a violent frenzy, whipping through the air so fast it produced an audible _crack_ …and the detective was certain that if they slammed into a _person_ with that much force, it'd break every bone in their body.

Throughout this, the Doctor's main "body" remained perfectly stationary, and his voice box utterly silent. But Elisa could see this for what it was.

A temper tantrum – for a man who'd reached his limit, and had no other outlets for his rage.

"How could I have been so _blind?_ " he berated himself, tentacles still flying like wind currents in a tempestuous storm. "I never even stopped to _consider_ …that someone might approach it from the _opposite_ direction…!"

"Err…I understand that you appear to be going through something, Doctor Moreau," said Sevarius, trying to keep as much distance between himself and the nearest flailing tentacle. "But did you want me to continue with my research log, or…?"

The Doctor answered these words by seizing the tape recorder with one of his claws, and crushing it into a mangled mess.

"What would be the _point?_ " he snapped. "However superficially similar the results might be, our work has essentially _nothing_ in common. How I marveled at the miracle you appeared to have achieved: Beast Folk whose forms remained stable, and ran no risk of reversion. What a beautiful _lie_ that was."

"Well, I _did_ try to tell you earlier," Sevarius pointed out, probably not very wisely. "But so what? Sure, you make beasts into men, and I make men into beasts – to _vastly_ oversimplify. Doesn't mean we can't share a few drinks and swap stories. Well…maybe not the 'drinks' part. But you know what I mean."

"I don't have time for your _glib!_ " yelled the Doctor, as a tentacle shot out, pinning Sevarius against the wall and knocking the breath out of him. "My children are _dying!_ And I've been wasting time with a useless fool!"

Even Anton Sevarius had enough common sense not to try and fire back from _this_ position. 

Eventually, after a few moments of silence, the Doctor retracted his tentacle, allowing Sevarius to slide back down to the floor. When he spoke again, he was far calmer.

"I'll…need to rethink some things," he said. "Stay put, the both of you. I'm going to check on the female."

Without further preamble, he floated over to the opposite wall, ignoring the wreckage of his lab as he passed above it. He pressed a claw to a panel, and a moment later, the hidden passageway opened back up.

Presumably, he'd intended to seal the opening back up right after. But whatever he saw on the other side made him forget about that entirely.

"Montgomery…" Elisa heard him speak. "What in the world are you _doing?_ "

"Oh…Master! I wasn't expecting you so soon!" came the voice of the Gorilla-Man who he'd sent to watch over Maggie. The guilt in his voice, as well as his poor attempt to hide it, was patently obvious. "The contractions are still six minutes apart, and you asked to be summoned once they hit five…"

"Never mind that now," the Doctor cut him off. "Why do you have the collar controls open? Why do I see red all _over_ the map?"

"I…I realize how this looks, Master," said Montgomery. The timidity in his voice sounded so strange, given how naturally deep it was. "But you ordered me to handle any issues that arose with whatever force was necessary! And drastic problems…call for drastic solutions."

"Explain the 'problem,' then," commanded the Doctor. "What could have possibly warranted you to do _this?_ To your own brothers and sisters?"

In answering this question, Montgomery significantly lowered his voice, so Elisa couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. She only caught a few stray words.

 _Traitors. Machine. Gargoyle._

That last, whispered term spurred her to action. Despite knowing it was most certainly a terrible idea, she found herself sneaking through the passageway, trying to get a glimpse into the next room.

Thankfully, as she peered around the corner, she saw Montgomery and the Doctor were both facing the opposite direction (at least, the latter _appeared_ to be, given the "posture" of his arms). Between the pair, Maggie was lying unconscious on a hospital bed, her stomach bulging.

And on the screen above them…

Elisa had to place a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

It was a camera feed of Goliath, locked in a desperate battle for his life.

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

If the clan leader had been willing to kill his opponents, this fight would have been a far simpler affair.

But while Goliath was no stranger to taking lives in the heat of battle, _this_ struggle felt very different. These Beast Folk were in no way in their right mind, driven to the brink of madness in a frantic attempt to end their pain.

Judging by the looks in their eyes, many had already gone over the edge completely, the unceasing agony enough to shred away their last vestiges of intelligence. Now they were no better than their caged brethren, roaring and snapping their jaws at anyone who got too close – even each other.

Indeed, the fact that some were _so_ far gone that their original mission had faded from their minds was, perhaps, the only thing keeping him alive. While some still pursued the machine or the Sayers – biting and slashing ineffectually at the former, and held at bay from the latter thanks to Vance's surprising strength – most had fallen into a chaotic melee, striking out blindly at whoever was in range.

Still, that made outright escape all but impossible. Enough of the Beast Folk retained memory of their orders to kill "the outsider" that he was rebuffed every time he tried, and those happened to be the ones who retained enough mental acuity to organize and wield improvised weaponry.

He was unsure which group was more dangerous: those who remembered how to fight like humans…or those who had reverted to hunting like beasts.

After only about ten minutes of battle, he was already bleeding in half a dozen places, a bad bite on his right leg significantly impeding his movements. There were no climbing surfaces nearby to gain enough height for gliding, and he knew too little of this island's layout to chance running off blindly.

Individually, he was a _far_ more experienced warrior than any of the opponents he faced. But against nearly one hundred…

There was only so long he could hold out.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Do you have any idea, Montgomery…" said the Doctor, his artificial voice low and even. "What you have just wrought?"

"I know that I acted without your express approval. I know that I violated the spirit, if not precisely the letter, of the Law," replied Montgomery, crossing his brawny forearms. "And I also know that I'd do it again in a heartbeat. This was about _protecting_ you, Master. About making sure your children could never leave."

"That isn't protection, Montgomery," the Doctor chastised his servant. "It is selfishness."

"Selfishness on behalf of another is an oxymoron," the Gorilla-Man pointed out. "I want for nothing. I _need_ nothing – save the brilliance of your light. If my 'siblings' cannot see the same, then they _deserve_ their fate."

The Doctor was silent for several moments. Then in thick, heavy tones that brooked no room for disagreement, he declared, "This isn't the time for esoteric debate. Shut off the collars. _Now._ "

Montgomery's expression – or at least what could be read of it – didn't change one iota. If there was a shred of guilt or second-guessing in his mind, he failed to show it.

Nevertheless, for one reason or another, it seemed he was incapable of disobeying. He turned back to his computer console and entered a command.

"All collars have been returned to inactive status," he said. "Things should settle back to normal within a few minutes."

But as he, the Doctor, and the secretly ensconced Elisa silently watched on, the camera feed displayed nothing that could be called "normal."

The video showed countless other victims of the Doctor's sick experiments, many of them twisted far more horribly than Montgomery or Curtis the Lizard-Man. Up until now, they'd been assaulting Goliath as a group, forcing the gargoyle to fight tooth-and-talon just to stay alive.

And while it was true that the red blinking lights around each of their necks had disappeared, and that a number were now reacting as if they'd just woken up from a wretched nightmare…

Many more continued the attack unabated, acting no differently than rabid beasts closing in on their prey.

"I…I don't understand," murmured Montgomery, as Goliath struggled to hold back the jaws of a snarling Wolf-Man. "They're not in pain anymore. Why are they…?"

He was cut short by one of the Doctor's claws, which snapped closed around his wrist. The pressure was sharp enough that Elisa could see it draw blood from beneath the black, matted fur.

"This is why I asked if you knew what you had wrought. Clearly, you _still_ do not grasp the full extent of your folly," he said dangerously. "Do you have any idea how precariously so many of my children were balanced, before you pulled this stunt? How many had the last vestiges of the minds I so carefully crafted for them…hanging by a single thread? A thread _you_ have just severed."

His servant's apelike eyes grew wide with shock.

"They're…not continuing because of the collars…" he realized aloud. "But because of what the collars _did_ to them. They…They _broke_ them. I…broke them…"

"You drove them out of their minds with agony. And most didn't come back," hissed the Doctor. "Why do you think I was so _careful?_ Why I used the discipline function only as a last resort? You shameful, irresponsible _fool._ You've singlehandedly ruined _decades_ of my work."

If there hadn't been a shred of regret in the Gorilla-Man's eyes earlier, there was certainly plenty of it now. He moved his jaw, but no sound came out. He looked like a Catholic priest who'd just been given a dressing down by the Pope himself.

Both "men" were quiet for nearly a full minute. As they stewed, Elisa looked on helplessly as Goliath fought off one mutated beast after another, sustaining bites and scratches at a rate that would easily fell any human – and probably a good number of gargoyles as well.

But while his warrior's spirit and sheer strength of will were part of why she'd fallen for him, that made it no easier to watch Goliath fight what could only be called a losing battle. Somehow, she _had_ to act.

Before she could, however, Maggie drew every eye or optical sensor in the room by spasming, and letting out a deep, ragged gasp. She was awake now, it seemed…if only just.

"Another contraction," said the Doctor. "How many minutes has it been since the last?"

Montgomery checked the clock on his console.

"…Five."


	6. Episode VI: Xanthine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Episode VI: Xanthine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **Cleveland, Ohio**

 **March 23, 1995 A.D.**

"You do realize how _stupid_ you're being, right?" said Barbara Reed, standing between her daughter and the front door in a vain attempt to keep her from leaving. "How much do you have on you, anyway? A thousand dollars?"

"Twenty-two hundred, forty-seven, actually," Maggie corrected indignantly. "I've been saving from my tips for almost two years now. Surprised?"

All the while, the twenty-year-old woman was trying to push past her mother, dragging an overstuffed suitcase with both hands.

"A little," the older woman admitted, fingers tugging absently on her graying braid. She always did that when she was nervous. "But that doesn't change my point. Two grand won't last you long in a place like Manhattan."

"I don't need it to last 'long,' mom," replied Maggie with a roll of her eyes. "Just a short stay at a hotel while I look for apartments and scope auditions. I know it's competitive in New York, but I can make it. I've won _awards,_ you know."

"And I was very proud of you," Barbara said quickly. "But…"

"But _nothing._ I know you don't have any faith in me. That you think I'm not talented enough," Maggie cut off her mother, pointing an accusing finger. "I'm tired of having the same damn fight all the time. Well, I'm done! Starting today, I'm out of your life – just like you always wanted!"

"M…Margaret…" murmured the older woman, looking at if she'd just been slapped. She probably didn't even realize she'd slipped back to her daughter's birth-name, which Maggie never used.

She used the opportunity to finally side-step her stunned mother, and reach the door.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes. And I know what you're thinking," Maggie continued on, breaking eye contact with the other woman. "You think if I wasn't around, dad might not've left. Hell…you're probably right."

"That…That's not…" Barbara tried to argue, but more words didn't come. Tears did instead.

"You'll see, mom. By this time next year, you'll see my name in lights. My face on commercials and billboards," said Maggie. "I'll be a _star,_ and you'll still just be a waitress at a no-name diner in Cleveland. And you'll _eat_ your words."

She forced the door open. It took a few tries, as the lock had been sticking for nearly a decade. But after a forceful push from her shoulder, the aged wood gave way.

Maggie couldn't _wait_ to see the last of this crappy house, with its peeling paint and potholed driveway. 

Without looking back, she hoisted up her suitcase and began the short walk to the nearest bus stop.

"Margaret! Margaret, wait!" called out a voice from behind her.

Against her better judgment, Maggie stopped in her tracks and turned back, just for a moment.

Her mother was standing a few feet away, still in her pink bathrobe – with its conspicuous discolored patch where Maggie had spilled fruit punch years ago. She was rifling through her pockets, panting from the exertion of running.

"If you're really…determined to do this…" she said, between deep breaths. "Then…I think I have…a few hundred somewhere…damn where _is_ it…"

But as the next bus approached their street, Maggie just scowled.

"Keep it. I've got all I need on my own," she declared firmly. "If you wanted us to be closer, the time for that was _years_ ago. Now, if you'll excuse me…I've got a new life to live."

The last thing Barbara Reed saw of her daughter was her middle finger raised high in the air as she prepared to board.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Fetch my tools, Montgomery. And prepare to assist," droned the Doctor's voice box, his tone that of a man trying to enforce a calm he in no way actually felt. "Your punishment can wait until after the delivery is completed."

"Yes, Master," said the Gorilla-Man, who quickly bowed and began gathering surgical implements from a nearby cart.

Elisa guessed from his body language that he was secretly glad for the distraction, and the reprieve it'd bought him.

She, on the other hand, was caught between half a dozen competing motivations. Her sister-in-law was imminently about to give birth, and the "surgeons" handling it were the brain of a century-old mad scientist in a jar, as well as his super-intelligent gorilla lover.

At the same time, elsewhere in this facility, five other mutates – including her brother and two _children_ – were no doubt being poked and prodded by the Doctor's machines. Assuming, of course…that Montgomery's "plague of madness" hadn't spread to the Beast Folk watching over the other prisoners.

Which brought her to the final problem. The screen in the Doctor's lab was still displaying the gargoyle she loved, as he struggled desperately against the hordes of mindless Beast Folk.

Even the mightiest warrior alive could only last in battle for so long. And what, God forbid…would happen once the sun rose?

She needed to save _all_ of them, somehow. Despite being in a position where she could barely save herself.

"Before we start, increase her morphine drip by another five milligrams," ordered the Doctor. "A number of bodily functions can become less controlled during childbirth, and it's likely her electrical discharges will be no exception. I'd rather not have to deal with such… _complications._ "

That was the moment – because if there was one thing Elisa had learned about the universe, it was its _profound_ taste for irony – when the wall to the laboratory exploded.

" _Maggie!_ " roared Derek Maza, better known to some as Talon. His clenched fists crackled with power as he stepped through the hole he'd just made for himself. "Get _away_ from her!"

"Oh, of all the _absolute_ …" the Doctor muttered, clearly taken aback by the other mutate's sudden appearance. "I'm trying to _help_ your paramour, you fool. Stay by her side if you must, but do not interrupt the procedure!"

"Right, like I'm gonna trust _you_ to deliver my kid," said Derek derisively, his yellow eyes scanning across the room and taking everything in – before coming to rest on Montgomery, who was halfway through changing into gorilla-sized scrubs. "You're just gonna do the same thing Sevarius tried to! See if they come out a freak like us, for your own sick kicks…and if they don't, _make_ them one!"

Two of the Doctor's claws clinked together twice, very quickly. Reading body language for a man without a "body" was obviously difficult, but the meaning couldn't be clearer: what little patience he still had was wearing thin.

"I won't deny the scientific value of taking part in this procedure. Even if I wasn't able to get quite what I was hoping out of the dear doctor," he explained. "But no, Mr. Maza. I'm taking the lead because I'm the only one here qualified to do so. And I _won't_ have a child's death on my conscience."

"And why should I _believe_ you?" demanded Derek, bearing every one of his very sharp fangs.

"That's simple. Because you have no _choice,_ " the Doctor replied simply. "And besides that, you…"

But whatever else he'd meant to say died away with remarkable swiftness, as another, much louder sound pierced the air.

It sounded like…barking dogs?

"No…" said Derek, voice filling with horror. "I thought I'd lost them. But if they followed me here, then…"

His eyes, now emptied of the utter fury that'd overtaken them just seconds ago, settled upon Maggie's prone form with nothing but sorrow.

"If the whole pack has been driven mad, we don't have much time," declared the Doctor, dropping the needle, scalpel, and forceps that his other two arms had been prepping with disinfectant. "Montgomery, Mr. Maza, we'll need to put aside our animosity for the moment. I must be protected while I prepare. Once the procedure is underway, it won't mat…"

But what none of them had realized until it was too late…was that not all the barking was coming from outside the room.

The overhead ventilation system cracked open, directly above them, and from the vent tunnels poured a dozen misshapen Dog-Men, each of their forms akin to a different shape or breed. They bayed and howled with wild abandon, and immediately leapt onto the closest targets available – the Doctor and Montgomery.

" _Arrrgh_ …get these off me!" yelled the scientist, using his tentacles to catch two Dog-Men by the scruff of their necks and toss them as far away as possible. "And keep them away from the female!"

Derek didn't need to be asked. He was already at Maggie's bedside, firing a blast at a Dalmatian-like woman who drew too close.

Unfortunately, that was the moment the _rest_ of the Dog-Man "pack" chose to catch up to them, streaming into the lab through the hole Derek had blasted. It was hard to tell from this angle, but Elisa thought she could count thirty or forty more.

The detective bit her lip to keep from crying out. She needed to make a move, and _fast._

Her carefully trained eyes scanned across the room, and she realized she had a plan.

"Derek, cover me!" she exclaimed as she dashed into the room, her sudden appearance drawing eyes from all around. Even several of the Dog-Men stopped biting and snapping for a moment to stare.

She paid them no attention, however. Instead, she made a beeline for Maggie's hospital bed.

Upon closer inspection, she'd realized that it was actually on wheels, though they were locked. A swift kick in the right place took care of that issue.

"Follow me, Derek! Through here!" she said loudly, as she pulled the bed alongside her. Maggie had been connected to a number of machines, and while most of those cords and wires fell away without too much issue, Elisa winced as her IV was forcibly yanked out, sending the stand and morphine bags crashing violently to the ground.

Her brother, though still surprised, had been raised with the same "cop instincts" she had – even if it'd been quite some time since he left the force. So he needed no further nudging to spring into action, sending out another pair of blasts at a burly Doberman-like brute who tried to follow.

The two Maza siblings raced through the small passageway that connected the two labs, the twitching and groaning Maggie writhing in a cocktail of painkillers between them. The last she saw of them, the Doctor and Montgomery were violently tossing the Dog-Men aside, trying to catch up to them.

But they weren't quick enough.

"Alright, we're through!" yelled Elisa. "Derek, you need to…!"

"Got it from here, sis!" he growled, cutting her off. Then, with a guttural roar, he discharged all his built-up energy into the passage's ceiling.

The reaction was intense and immediate. Huge chunks of the wall began collapsing inward, kicking up a dust cloud that Derek spread his wings to protect Maggie and his sister from.

Elisa was about to breathe a sigh of relief, before she caught the sharp whirring sound half-drowned out by the cascade. Barely a second later, she saw the metallic tentacle snaking its way through the collapsing passageway, heading straight for the trio.

Then a particularly jagged piece of debris fell upon the appendage, bisecting it straight through. Its claw, snapping viciously like the maws of the wild Beast Folk, stopped less than a foot from Elisa's face, and then fell still.

"Well, that was… _something,_ " she said mutedly, still blinking rapidly as the now-disabled tentacle collapsed to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut. "Should buy us a little time, at least."

"But what are we supposed to _do_ with it?" asked Derek, looked distraught as he carefully wiped dust away from his lover's face. "Neither of us is qualified to do this ourselves. Not even _close._ "

The detective sighed deeply, knowing he wasn't going to react well to what she was about to say. _She_ wouldn't have, in his shoes.

But right now, they had no choice.

"We're not the only two people in this room," she answered, casting her eyes conspicuously to the side.

Where Doctor Anton Sevarius was sweating and grunting as he tried to force his way out of a locked door, to little avail.

"Oh, _wonderful,_ " he drawled. "There are no words to describe how bereft I was without your _scintillating_ sibling repartee."

Derek wheeled back on her, looking as if his sister had suddenly grown a second head.

"You… _cannot_ …be serious…" he said, through tightly gritted teeth. "After everything he's done to me? To _you?!_ You expect me to let that _monster_ be the man who brings my child into the world?! A monster who just happens to…!"

"…To be the only person here with anything _close_ to a medical degree?" Elisa finished for him. "Look, Derek. He wouldn't be my first or second or _thousandth_ choice, either. But we're out of time. It's either him or that psycho brainiac. And all other things being equal, I think I'd rather have my niece or nephew delivered by human hands over crazy robo-claws."

She looked him straight in the eyes, showing him just how seriously she'd thought this over. "Besides, you know what they say…" she added in a whisper. "Better the Devil you know."

" _Ahem,_ " Anton coughed overdramatically. "Do _I_ not get a say in all this?"

Derek didn't respond for several moments. Then, still wordlessly, he strode over to the geneticist, and picked him up by his collar.

"No. You _don't,_ " he snarled. His words were accompanied by a small jolt of electricity; just enough to make every hair on the doctor's body stand on end.

Then, he tossed Anton unceremoniously at the foot of Maggie's hospital bed.

"Alright, I'm probably gonna o regret this a thousand ways to Sunday. But here's your chance, Sevarius," he said, in a tone that left no room for the scientist to object. "Time to use that giant brain of yours for good, for _once_ in your life."

Anton lifted himself to his feet, dusting off his coat with both hands.

"I…won't guarantee anything," he told the mutate, frowning deeply. "I'm a PhD, not an MD. And I've _certainly_ never taken any special courses in obstetrics."

"But are you, or are you _not_ …" Elisa cut in, deciding that, for the time being, buttering up the mad scientist could only help. "The greatest biologist in the world?"

Doctor Sevarius drew himself up to full height, a haughty expression overtaking his face.

"You're damn right I am. And no cybernetic reject off the pages of a high school literature syllabus is going to change that!" he called out emphatically. It seemed he'd taken Moreau's dismissal of his "expertise" a little more personally than he let on. "Alright, Detective Maza! You'll need to assist, to the best of your ability. Wash up in that sink, then bring me the tools on the cart next to it!"

He turned to Maggie's prone body, using two fingers to check the pulse on her wrist.

"And now…" he said, as he rolled up each of his sleeves overdramatically. "Let's welcome the little sunspot into this wretchedly nauseating world!"

[-]

 **Beast Folk City**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Though he was loath to admit it, Goliath knew he was in trouble.

While gargoyles tended to have substantially better stamina than humans, and even by _gargoyle_ standards he was in tremendous shape, no energy supply was inexhaustible. The sheer wear and tear from fighting to keep the Beast Folk at bay was making his movements slower, clunkier – and it was only a matter of time before he sustained an injury that immobilized him completely.

Already, a bite on his right thigh meant he was unable to run without experiencing intense pain. Stone sleep would heal it without issue, but unfortunately that promise carried with it a whole new set of problems.

He had, at this point, spent a good portion of the night touring and then fighting through Beast Folk City. Dawn was, at best, a few hours away.

And if he suddenly became helpless and immobile in the midst of _this_ chaos, no amount of protective stone skin was likely to save him.

Despite all this, if there was one thing Hudson and his other rookery parents had taught him as a hatchling, it was that a battle where one lost hope was a battle already lost. Even if he was unable to see it at present, he _had_ to believe there was a way out of this.

Goliath was abruptly wrenched from his reverie by a charging Beast-Man, one that was easily his equal in breadth and stature. At the last moment he sidestepped the creature, regaining his footing less quickly than he would have liked.

Unlike the other Beast Folk, the animal used as "source" for this one was unclear. He seemed to have parts of a great number of creatures mashed together, with the horns of a bull, gait of a bear, and mane of a lion – among others.

Whatever he was to be called, however, this Beast-Man was undeniably fearsome. The moment he realized his charge had failed, he wheeled around to try again, a booming howl echoing out of his fanged mouth.

This time, hampered by his leg, Goliath was just a bit too slow. He snarled in pain as one of the Beast-Man's horns grazed his chest, drawing blood.

Before his opponent could turn around for a third pass, however, the gargoyle leapt upon him, pulling him into a tight headlock. The two wrestled on the ground, battling for dominance – and unfortunately, it was a battle Goliath was uncertain he still had the strength to win.

That was when the Beast-Man took a sudden, lightning-fast strike to the face, and went still.

Goliath looked up in surprise as he slowly disentangled himself from the now-unconscious Beast-Man. At first glance, a blur was now darting around the battlefield.

But once he adjusted his eyes, he recognized the aid that had come for him: none other than the Cheetah-Woman, Minerva.

"Get…up…" she said, as she felled a series of Cat-Men in jazzy suits, one after the other. Her blows were measured, precise – not in any way the technique of an amateur. "You are…still needed…"

The gargoyle did as he was bid, rejoining the battle at the side of his rescuer. Still, as he body-slammed a miniature Elephant-Man with overlarge ears, he could not help but ask, "Why did you come back for me? Was my destruction not the will of the 'Doctor' you so admire?"

"That was…not Doctor…" responded Minerva, striking a Deer-Woman so hard in the chest that her jab sounded like a gunshot. "Servant spoke…false words…in His name. Doctor…would not be…so wasteful…"

That particular phrasing reminded Goliath of Xanatos, and he grimaced at the type of picture that had been painted of this Island's master thus far. Still, at least to some extent, this was welcome news.

"Your Sayers spoke of a 'House of Salvation.' I believe that is where my friends are being held," stated Goliath, as the two of them fought to create an opening in the throngs upon throngs of wild Beast Folk. "Can you take me there?"

"I can…try…" Minerva struggled to answer. "But…be warned. House is…no better…than here…"

Goliath gritted his teeth, his worst suspicions confirmed. If all Beast Folk across the Island wore those collars, then it stood to reason that the ones back at the Doctor's "base" were similarly affected.

Which meant that Elisa, Talon, and the rest could be in serious danger.

"Can you…move with…?" she asked, gesturing to the wound on his leg.

The gargoyle nodded. "I can walk, if not run," he told her simply. "And I _am_ able to fight."

Eventually, working together, the pair were able to force their way through the madness in a way Goliath could not alone. With a final combination of punches and slashing claws, they toppled an enormous Tiger-Man in a shredded business suit, and escaped into the dense forest.

"Follow me…outsider…" she said, moving with clear focus and purpose despite the lack of any apparent landmarks to guide her. "We must… _hurry_ …"

The gargoyle hardly needed to be told twice. He pushed past the pain in his leg, and went with her.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Alright, let's take stock o' things. Good news, we got the hell outta there, _without_ becomin' man-dog chow," declared Thug, his hands still on the shoulders of both mutated children – as they'd been throughout their entire escape run. "Bad news…got _no_ idea what ta do now."

Claw seemed to be miming a suggestion, which was possibly a useful one, but just as easily might not be. Unfortunately, there really wasn't any way to tell.

"I feel bad, leaving Mr. Talon and Ms. Maza back there to handle things alone," said Erin, looking worried. "There has to be _some_ way we can help them."

"We're stuck on an Island, right? That's what that lizardy-guy said, anyway," Benny pointed out. "So we gotta find a way to get off, right? Heh heh… _get off_ …"

"That's…actually a pretty good suggestion, Benny. Well, except that last part," replied his sister, sounding impressed almost in spite of herself. "But where do we start? We don't even know which ocean we're in, or how far to the nearest mainland."

"It's a conundrum, no doubt 'bout that," Thug mused, tapping one claw against his elongated chin. "Even if we _do_ manage ta snag a boat or copter or somethin', ain't gonna do us much good if we don't know where we _are._ "

Erin was now pacing in a circle around the others, looking as deep in thought as her turtle-like face was capable of expressing.

"Let's think about this logically," she murmured. "This Island can't be _completely_ isolated. It has to be getting regular shipments some way or another."

"Whadaya mean, sis?" asked Benny.

"Well, let's assume Doctor Sevarius was right, and the man running this Island creates his hybrids using 'normal' animals as a base," she explained, her paces quickening slightly. "Some of the ones we've seen just don't live that long. _Maybe_ his procedures elongate their lives somehow, but there _has_ to be a limit."

"Meanin' he has ta replace 'em every once in a while with new specimens. Probably off the black market," said Thug, growling at the implications. "But doesn't that jus' put us back at square one? Even if there's a port on this Island somewhere, ain't got the first clue how ta _find_ it."

At this point, Claw dropped both his arms sharply, abandoning the charades he'd been engaged in throughout their entire conversation. His expression displayed about as much exasperation as one could possibly hold without speaking.

Instead, he just stretched one of those arms back out, pointing dramatically. The other three pairs of eyes, compound and not, followed it automatically.

Now, none of the four mutates present had managed to run into the Doctor or Montgomery before that moment. But there was something about a brain in a floating canister and a rifle-toting Gorilla-Man that was difficult to miss.

The quartet quickly ensconced themselves in the nearby bushes, and perked up their inhuman ears to listen in.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back, Master?" rumbled the Gorilla-Man. "I could easily break through the door and capture them."

He demonstrated the point by cocking his weapon, which looked like it probably weighed about as much as Benny and Erin put together. It was far fiercer than the particle gun Thug has lifted off their captors, which he'd been forced to abandon during their escape when it ran out of juice.

"And at what cost?" shot back the cyborg, its mechanical voice sounding remarkably irritated. "You're not known for your subtlety, Montgomery, and you've done little tonight to engender greater trust from me. What if the female got caught in your crossfire? No, I'm forced to leave things in _that_ fool's hands. Pray he turns out a little more competent than _you_ have, as of late."

The words were biting, cutting, and this "Montgomery" seemed to take them that way. Despite his obvious physical might, he looked as if he'd been whipped into total submission.

"Master, I cannot begin to express how I…" he started to say, probably intending to apologize. But his "Master" cut him off by extending a metallic tentacle from his canister, and wrapping it around the Gorilla-Man's throat.

"I _told_ you, Montgomery. We will deal with your transgressions when the morning comes," he snapped, without releasing his grip. "For now, remain focused. With so many senior Beast Folk… _indisposed,_ it's all the more imperative we evaluate the latest shipment. For _your_ sake, you'd best hope it is a good one."

The four mutates shared a look. Then, without saying anything – which, admittedly, wasn't much of an accomplishment in one of their cases…

They began to follow.

[-]

"Alright, breathe. I said, _breathe._ Oh lord, you daft woman, do you seriously need to be instructed in the proper technique for _breathing?_ " said Anton Sevarius, entirely unhelpfully.

"Y'know, doc…" muttered Elisa, delivering him a scathing look. "I think you could _really_ stand to brush up on your bedside manner."

"Less chatting, more sweat-cleaning!" the mad scientist sneered. "And hand me that bedpan! From where I'm standing, things are about to get a tad… _messy._ "

Elisa did as she was told, and in spite of herself, felt something that might've been a _twinge_ of sympathy for Sevarius. An unrepentant monster he might be, whose guts she had ample reason to hate a dozen times over…

But it took a man _particularly_ devoted to his craft to barely blink when it required him to sift through literal crap.

Derek, understandably, didn't seem to share even this _very_ limited sentiment of positivity. He leaned over, clenching his jagged teeth at the geneticist, and growled, "Watch where you're touching, if you wanna _keep_ those fingers."

Sevarius rolled his eyes so hard, it _had_ to be painful.

"Oh, _trust_ me, dear fellow. There is little I've seen in my life that I could possibly consider _less_ appealing," he said. "Even if I _did_ experience any significant modicum of sexual desire, the sights currently assailing my corneas would take care of it _quite_ handily."

Her brother did not appear to appreciate this answer very much. He tensed up, towering over the doctor, and slowly opened his mouth…

But before he could vocalize anything more than the beginnings of a snarl, Maggie let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Now that she was no longer being pumped full of opium, the female mutate was gradually beginning to come back to herself. Unfortunately, she happened to be doing so _in the midst of childbirth._

As such, her pain was – based on the sheer volume and intensity of her cries – beyond anything Elisa could imagine. And she'd been _shot_ a couple years back, so that was saying something.

In any event, the shriek had Derek back by her side in an instant, any traces of anger utterly evaporated as he cupped her left hand between both of his. " _Shhhh_ …" he whispered. "I won't let _anything_ happen to you, Maggie. Or to our child."

Then, for the first time since Elisa had arrived on the scene, she saw Maggie's leonine lips begin to move under their own power, struggling mightily to form words. "D…D…D…" she managed groggily, eyes fluttering. "Derek…"

"Thank God," he breathed, eyes becoming wet as he finally heard her voice properly. "Maggie, don't worry. You're gonna be fine. _Everything's_ gonna be fine. I love you so, so, so, _so_ much…"

"And I…love you too…" she said, between hitched breaths and groans of discomfort. "But…I must still…be dreaming…"

Her head lolled about, like that of a limp marionette.

"Because…it looks like…" she continued to mumble, her brain still clearly addled by the drugs. "Sevarius is…poking around…my…"

The Maza siblings shared a long, uneasy look, then turned their attention back to Maggie's face, which looked surprisingly contented – especially for someone who was presently giving birth.

Then, Derek looked askance and muttered, "A dream. Yeah…Yeah, let's go with that."

"Now, now! I resent the implication that I could only ever be performing a helpful service while in the realm of…!" Sevarius began, before Elisa thwacked him lightly with the cloth she was using to keep sweat off his face.

"Less chatting, more baby-delivering," she echoed. "So hop to it, Dream Weaver."

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"Well that, uh…" said Thug, his face scrunched up in confusion as the four mutates watched on. "That definitely don't _look_ like a port o' entry."

Indeed, the pair they'd been shadowing hadn't stopped anywhere near the ocean, or in a clearing large enough to serve as a helipad. Instead…

They had just entered a seemingly ordinary cave.

"Maybe they've got some secret tunnels underground. I saw that in a movie once," Benny suggested. "Y'know…guarded by lasers, and sharks, and…"

"This isn't a spy movie, Benny," he was cut off by his sister. "Though, I must admit…they _do_ tick off a lot of 'Bond villain' boxes. Are _all_ Ms. Eliza's and Mr. Goliath's adventures like this?"

"Good question. Honestly, I'd be fine never goin' on another one ta find out," murmured Thug, now rising out of the bushes they'd hidden themselves within. "Claw, watch the kids. I'm gonna try an' check out that cave."

The tiger-mutate nodded once, wrapping his wings protectively around the two children.

Thug's current body, of course, wasn't exactly designed for stealth – but he did his best to quiet his footsteps as he slowly approached the cave entrance. He focused his eyes, which mimicked the finely tuned hunter's vision of a crocodile, into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay inside.

But before he could, those very eyes were assailed by a gorilla-sized fist.

The mutate fell backward several feet, the breath knocked out of his lungs. The enemy who'd been called "Montgomery" emerged from the shadows a moment later, holding his rifle threateningly.

"I _knew_ I smelt interlopers. I suppose it's no surprise Frank and Neil failed to hold you," he said. "Still, we have what we need from you four. Leave this place. Find shelter elsewhere on this Island…if you can."

"Yeah…I don't think so," replied Thug, as he drew himself back to his feet. "Counter-offer: ya start by tellin' me what in that cave ya don't want anyone ta see."

Then, before Montgomery could formulate a response, he lunged forward jaw-first.

Across the animal kingdom, the highest bite force of any living creature belonged to the saltwater crocodile. At over sixteen thousand newtons, the power of their jaws was believed to rival that of _Tyrannosaurus rex._

And Thug applied every last pound of that force into the weapon in Montgomery's hands.

Of course, as a human mutate, his mouth didn't have _nearly_ the same potency as an actual crocodile's. But while he couldn't quite chomp the rifle in two, his bite was enough to pierce its circuitry, producing sparks that singed his face.

Nevertheless, Thug didn't let an ounce of pain show in his expression as he added calmly, "Wanna go a few rounds _without_ yer fancy toy?"

Montgomery wasted no time tossing his now-useless gun to the side and taking a powerful swing at Thug, who just barely managed to dodge. A few seconds later the two were grappling, each one's prodigious strength a match for the other's.

"Master, you must secure the shipment!" exclaimed the Gorilla-Man. "I doubt this one came alone!"

"Whether there is one gnat or ten…" said a voice from within the cave. "I will not allow them to despoil the garden I've cultivated for so long."

And with that, Thug was seized from behind by a claw of solid steel. The crocodile-mutate thrashed to free himself, but the damage was already done; we was distracted long enough for Montgomery to gain the upper hand, and bodyslam him to the ground.

The Gorilla-Man roared savagely, before bringing one meaty fist down upon Thug's jaw, then the other. Over and over he pounded against the hard scales, until blood soaked his misshapen knuckles.

"You think a human, however twisted, can stand against me? Master's perfectly honed creation?" he demanded, as he continued to deliver blow after blow. "You will not come _near_ him! You will not… _aaaaaaaaaaargh!_ "

That last scream was the result of a severe electric shock, as lightning burst forth from the nearby trees, forcing Montgomery away from his opponent.

Claw emerged a moment later, the sharp hum of energy still dancing between his fingers as he readied another blast. This one, however, failed to meet its target.

Instead, it collided with a large, circular shield, made of some kind of bluish energy. Montgomery's so-called "Master" calmly hovered his way out of the cave, an attachment protruding from his canister and blinking with the same blue light.

"Please. As if I've never faced an electrokinetic before," he said, before retracting the attachment and dissipating the shield. "Now, would the children like to join us as well? There is little use in hiding from a man without eyes."

Claw took a few steps back, keeping his arms and wings both spread out to block the area behind him from view.

The cyborg raised two "arms" and clicked the claws together, in what might've been an expression of annoyance or impatience. Then, in the blink of an eye, both extended _around_ the tiger-mutate and seized Benny and Erin at the rims of their respective shells.

"Hey, quit it!" yelped the young boy, waving his multiple arms uselessly. "What's the big idea, brainy?"

"Ordinarily, I would eschew any violent acts against children. I do have _some_ standards, after all," the voice box reverberated, his words low and dangerous. "Unfortunately, you happen to have caught me on a _very._ Bad. Day."

Both claws began to squeeze down. Erin's shell held firm, but the bottom fell out of Thug's stomach as the faintest hints of a cracking sound slowly echoed from Benny's.

"You…get _away_ from them…" he gasped, struggling with all his might to stand up and fight again, despite his face having been beaten to a bloody pulp.

"As Montgomery indicated, we've already obtained the only _useful_ parts of you four," said the cyborg. "Sevarius' work may have proved… _disappointing,_ but I'd be remiss not to examine your DNA samples further. Just in case. However…"

And suddenly his claws were glowing the same, translucent blue as his shield. Energy crackled between the points. Though he lacked a face, the dim azure glow cast a shadow upon his brain that almost seemed to resemble one – and it did _not_ look kind.

"My need for _living_ specimens has reached its end."

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

Even if she was still under the delusion that she was dreaming, they'd reached a point where continued slumber on Maggie's part simply wasn't physically _possible._

Elisa was clasping her right hand, and had now spent the past half-hour doing so-called "patterned breathing" alongside the pregnant woman, to keep her as stable as possible. She wasn't actually sure that was a "thing" outside of television, but it was the best she could think to do.

Her left hand, meanwhile, remained closely entwined with Derek's, who was barely even blinking. He hadn't said a word to Elisa in ages, his lips instead engaged in a steady stream of whispered encouragement.

"When I became… _this_ …I thought that without a cure, my life was over," he said, his words probably directed in equal parts to her and to himself. "But then I found you. We found each _other._ And I wasn't alone in this new life."

He swallowed noticeably, before continuing, "Neither of us asked for that life. But we made the most of it. And we'll _keep_ doing that. Because we're strongest when we're together, and that _includes_ our child. They'll come into a world that's filled with hope and kindness and so, so, _so_ much love."

"You know, if I die of saccharide poisoning there'll be no one left to facilitate this delivery," interjected Sevarius. "And speaking of which, it's time to make the switch from maudlin prattle to something actually _useful._ Namely, exhortations to _push._ Because that's the only way we're wrapping this mess up – and none too soon, if you ask me!"

"Are we really at that stage alr…" Elisa began, before being cut off by a lung-bursting, partially leonine shriek. "Okay, guess that answers that question."

What followed was a stretch of time that, even years later, Elisa would never be able to recount in detail. It could've lasted another half-hour, or maybe a full one, or two or three or four. Her sense of time, even of _self,_ was lost in the haze of Maggie's screams, as she and Derek worked frantically together to "urge" the lioness-mutate on, best they could.

Beneath the sharp fluorescent lights, and with the stench of sterile chemicals pervading the air, it was almost enough to make Elisa _herself_ feel as if she was dreaming. Yet her body, her voice, continued on, saying, "Push. Push. _Push!_ " at regular intervals, as if on autopilot.

But while she wouldn't have been able to say how long that reverie lasted, she knew _exactly_ what wound up breaking it.

And that was Sevarius shouting, "Just a little farther, you cretins! I can see the head!"

What followed was a series of sights that almost made Elisa glad that, with her choice of "mate," she was unlikely to ever experience natural childbirth. She'd never actually witnessed the entire process outside of romanticized depictions in fiction, and the last few moments were filled with details unlikely to make it to network TV.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help but smile like an idiot as she watched Sevarius use medical scissors to clip away the umbilical cord, and raise the child up into the light.

Even when they started wailing uncontrollably, the earsplitting cries were like music to their exhausted aunt.

Still, being Anton Sevarius, there was absolutely zero chance we was going to let this moment slip by _without_ ruining it. He looked at the baby for a few moments, as if scrutinizing it for parts, before his lips formed a tight frown.

"Ack…what a disappointment," he finally said, head tilted to the side.

Derek immediately leapt up from his seated position, looking panicked. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Is something wrong with my kid?"

The geneticist let out a long, rattling sigh. Then he thrust the child out at arm's length, handing them none-too-gently to their father.

"Oh, if _only,_ " drawled Sevarius, sounding as if he took that fact as a personal insult. "Regrettably…it seems my formula did _not_ affect your respective reproductive DNA. Which means the tyke's one-hundred-percent _Homo sapiens._ "

He gestured a thumb at a particular part of the baby's anatomy. "Oh, and male too, if that's something you care about," he added, looking utterly bored.

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

It took some doing, but somehow Benny managed to slip from the claw's grip, landing gingerly upon the ground and stretching his multiple arms limberly.

"Don't worry, Erin," he said, sounding unnecessarily confident. "I've been working on a new trick. Just you watch!"

Then, without further ado, he got a running start, barreling right for the cyborg. At the last moment, he rolled up into a ball…

And bounced harmlessly off the silvery metal.

"Owie…" he moaned as he unfurled. "That always works for Sonic the Hedgehog…"

"Sonic isn't _real,_ Benny," his sister pointed out, rolling her reptilian eyes as she remained suspended in the other claw's clutches. "And besides, pill-bugs don't go rolling around anyway. They just curl up to protect themselves."

Benny's only response was a tired, but insistent, "Roly- _poly_ bug."

"Enough of this foolishness!" exclaimed Montgomery, who'd finally managed to recover from Claw's blast. "Let us finish this, Master! They refused our generous offer to leave once already."

"Quite. Wasteful as it may be…that seems the most expedient solution," he replied, electricity continuing to crackle along his two rear tentacles. "Still, I will try to make this as painless as possible."

With that, he released Erin above Thug's mangled body, where the crocodile-mutate was attempting unsuccessfully to stand, despite his numerous injuries. Two more swift strikes from his tentacles slammed Benny and Claw into the same, bloody pile.

"After all…" he said, his mechanical voice cold and pitiless. "I _am_ a Doctor."

Another pulse from his "body," and now cyan energy coursed through all _four_ claws. In unison, he raised them high in the air.

Before he could lower them, however, a deep, rumbling voice pierced through the night air.

"Many of this world's new words are strange to me. But I have come to understand and respect that a 'doctor' is one who heals the sick and wounded," it spoke. "You, however? I have seen you do nothing but _cause_ harm. You do not deserve the name."

That was all the warning Goliath gave before he dive-bombed the cyborg, forcing him into the dirt.

" _Master!_ " bellowed Montgomery, immediately getting on all fours to rush at the gargoyle. "How _dare_ you lay a…!"

But he was cut off as he too was taken by surprise, a Beast-Woman's sharp claws striking him from the back with incredible speed and ferocity. He fell to the ground mid-charge, and she quickly pounced upon the small of his back.

"Hurry…!" she shouted out as she continued to slash at the downed Gorilla-Man, keeping him in too much pain to get back up, despite the vast difference in their frames. "Into…cave! They won't…stay down…long!"

"With me!" said Goliath, echoing her urgency. He helped the three uninjured mutates to their feet, and then hauled Thug upon his own shoulder. Together, they made a break for the cave entrance, less than ten feet away.

But while Montgomery remained pinned down by the cheetah-like woman, his "Master" was under no such constraints. He hovered to intercede them, tentacles thrashing like brambled vines.

"And what makes you think, gargoyle…" he asked, in that severe, mechanical monotone that was anything _but_ emotionless. "That I will allow you to simply _leave_ this place?"

Goliath stared him down, his own expression unwavering.

"Because I have been told, despite everything…that you are a man with honor. And that you care, in your own way, for all who dwell upon this Island," was his answer. "Now is your chance to prove the faith they hold in you is not entirely unearned."

The other "man" did not speak for quite some time. He just remained there, floating silently, as if appraising the gargoyle who stood before him.

Then, suddenly, the blue energy dissipated from his tentacles, and they retracted most of their length.

"Very well. But not for any of the reasons you managed to articulate," he said. "I'm simply uncertain, with Montgomery indisposed…that I'd be capable of stopping you by force in the first place."

True to his word, his canister hovered to the side, allowing them passage. Halfway through, however, he added something else, his synthesized voice lowering significantly.

"And besides…" he muttered to the gargoyle. "You have personally captured the interest of several of my… _colleagues._ It wouldn't be proper to allow undue harm to come to you, Goliath."

After that, he "turned" toward the only pair still fighting. "Minerva, you may release him," he commanded, his tone polite but his words still clearly an order. "Montgomery, it's time to admit that the night is lost. We should check upon those in the City."

"But Master, I…!" started the Gorilla-Man, but he withered instantly beneath the cyborg's faceless stare. He hung his head low as the female slid away, with catlike grace.

"Do what you must, Minerva," the so-called "Doctor" told her. "You may even leave with them, if you wish. I'm not certain there's a place for you here anymore."

"An offer I'd suggest you take," Montgomery snarled as he passed her by. "Lest you learn how we treat traitors to the Law."

The Cheetah-Woman's golden eyes went wide, and her lip quivered. But ultimately, she nodded, and fell into step at Goliath's side.

Wordlessly, she led the gargoyle and all four mutates into the now-unguarded cave.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

It took Maggie several moments to process what'd just happened. Despite the utter agony she'd just been through, none of it had exactly felt _real._

Not until her own child – her _son_ – was in her arms.

He was such a tiny little thing. Still so raw and vulnerable, with fingers so small they could wrap around a single one of hers and have room left to spare. She tried it out and they did.

His grip was surprisingly strong.

While his skin was still fairly reddened, she could tell that he'd inherited a tone closer to his father's. A nice, tanned complexion, like salted caramel.

On the other hand, he had her hair. It was just a tuft at the crown, barely even there, but it was the same dirty blond she'd had as a human. That she _still_ had, even if so much else had changed.

The contrast was immediate, visceral, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. When she held him against her furred bosom, all she could see was how dissimilar it was to his own, unblemished, _human_ skin.

In a way, it was all she could've ever hoped for. He was healthy, apparently undamaged by a reproductive system with _so_ many unknowns. With luck, he could grow into a man with just as many hopes and dreams as his peers.

And yet, throughout it all, his parents would always be…

Maggie shook her head vigorously. She couldn't think about that sort of thing right now. They had more immediate things to worry about.

"Let's get one thing out of the way, Derek," she said, feeling fully lucid for the first time in hours. "I _wasn't_ dreaming, was I? Anton Sevarius just delivered my baby."

There was a long look cast between the Maza siblings, and then at the scientist in question – who'd spent the past five minutes vigorously washing his hands with every variety of soap and disinfectant he could find in the laboratory.

"Okay, I know what you're about to say," Derek began, holding up both hands in preemptive defense. "I said the same thing! But you need to know, if we'd had literally _any_ other choice…"

But Maggie just shook her head, gently cutting him off.

"I'm only going to say this once. Because I very much doubt they're words I'll _ever_ have reason to say again," she declared. "So…thank you, Sevarius. Thank you for making sure my son entered this world safely."

"Oh, _trust_ me, if I'd had an opportunity to have some 'fun' with the little butterball, I'd have taken it faster than you can say 'pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,'" Sevarius called out over the rush of the lab's sink. "Unfortunately, the mutagenic formula I prepared specially for an infant's underdeveloped immune system was shattered during our mutual kidnapping. Ah well. Spilt C12H22O11."

"That's what's so great about you, Anton," said Elisa dryly. "Just when we think maybe you're not _completely_ irredeemable, you open your mouth and remove all doubt."

"I know you're being sarcastic right now, Detective…" he responded. "But I take that as a genuine compliment!"

Elisa rolled her eyes and went back to ignoring the mad scientist – a policy that, all three of them could agree, was in the best interest of their collective mental health.

Instead, she turned back to the new parents and asked, "So…does my little nephew have a name? Mom and Dad are gonna need to know who they're supposed to spoil."

Identical, somewhat sheepish grins appeared on the mutates' faces. Derek swallowed and told her, "Well sis, y'see…there was so much we weren't sure of…I mean, about how the baby would…would turn out, and…"

He was stammering, so Maggie rescued him. "We just didn't want to get our hopes up," she finished. "So picking a name…seemed like taking too much for granted."

Elisa nodded solemnly. "Can't say I blame you for being cautious," she replied, her deep-brown eyes focused unerringly upon her now-sleeping nephew. "And I guess there isn't really any hurry. Though I've got a few suggestions rolling around my head, if you're interested."

"Of course," said Maggie, before Derek could stop her. The detective's lip curled upward.

"Well, I've always liked 'Nathaniel' for a boy," she offered. "Or maybe Cameron. Randy? Or Wade…"

"Let me stop you right there, sis," Derek interrupted with a groan. "I know you're a comics nut, but we are _not_ naming him after a character in _Captain Atom._ Especially not Eiling, he's an asshole. Reminds me of Xanatos."

Elisa jabbed her brother on the arm playfully. "Aw, you never let me have any fun," she remarked, clutching her chest in mock-offense.

"If you're having trouble coming up with anything…" Sevarius spoke up loudly. "You could always try 'Little Anton.' I'll even let you have _that_ one for free."

The other three adults exchanged another long look. Then Derek answered back, "Nice job, Sevarius. You've come up with a name _worse_ than my sister at her nerdiest."

Anton seemed primed to offer an indignant retort, but he never got the chance. Because at that moment, a series of loud, frantic barks filled their ears, sounding as if they were coming from very close by.

"Oh, right," said Elisa. "I forgot about those."

[-]

 **?**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

The cave wound up being quite a bit larger on the inside than it had seemed on the outside.

Indeed, beyond the threshold the Doctor had been guarding was an intricate tunnel system, very little of which appeared to be natural. The surrounding rocks were far too smooth, and artificial lights had been set into them at regular intervals.

The tunnels branched off in numerous directions, like a sprawling underground tree, but Minerva seemed to have no issue leading them in the correct direction.

"These lead…all across…Island…" she explained, in her signature stilted style. "Allow Doctor…to move…between House…and City. And…for new Folk…to arrive…"

"Ha! Called it!" Benny piped up, making a victorious pumping motion with three arms.

"Gorilla-face _did_ say somethin' 'bout a shipment," said Thug, still nursing his swollen and battered jaw. "He must bring new specimens in here, take 'em to his lab ta play god…then release 'em to the Island once he's done."

"But _how_ does he obtain these 'specimens'?" asked Goliath. "By air? By sea?"

Suddenly, as they turned the next corner, the Cheetah-Woman stopped short. And out the corner of her mouth, she whispered, "…Both."

Goliath and the others entered the next chamber, and realized exactly why they no longer had to continue forward.

The first thing Goliath thought of was the Cyberbiotics hovercraft, which Tomas Brod had used against them in Prague and New York. It was substantially larger – albeit nowhere _near_ the size of Renard's air fortresses – but carried a similar basic design.

Still, it was impossible to tell whether it was more _or_ less advanced than the models created by his friend. On the one claw, it was clearly of superior design; sleeker, more aerodynamic. Renard's machines only hovered at a set speed. Goliath was hardly an expert, but he was fairly certain this vehicle was designed to _fly._

Yet at the same time, there was something about the style of its wings and armor that seemed far more… _ancient._ Older even than the Dark Ages of his birth.

"Master…uses to collect…new beasts…" said Minerva. "Left behind…long ago…by team of…explorers. Can go…anywhere…in world…"

"This must be how they got us out of New York so quickly!" Erin realized with a loud gasp. "But…how does it _work?_ Can we even pilot it?"

Minerva looked uncomfortable, her tail curling nervously about herself. Goliath remembered the expression, from the _last_ time he had asked her to explain the Doctor's technology.

Eventually, however, she told them, "No need…to pilot. Ask…crystal…to repeat…last flight…"

Goliath was thoroughly confused by this instruction, but approached the ship nevertheless. As he drew closer, he realized that a compartment on its underside, which he had initially taken for a cockpit, actually contained a large fragment of greenish-blue crystal.

Unsure how best to address an inanimate object, the gargoyle cleared his throat and declared commandingly, "Return us to New York City."

For a moment, nothing happened, and Goliath's brow furrowed deeply. He had managed to locate the other mutates by sheer happenstance, but time was running short to rescue Elisa, Talon, and Maggie as well.

By his best estimate, there was now less than an hour to sunrise.

But just as those thoughts entered into the clan leader's head, a sound he could not quite identify resonated through the cavern. It was low, but _deeply_ powerful.

And it was accompanied by the crystal structure coming to life with a burning, triumphant glow.

After that, the rest of the vehicle reacted nearly instantaneously. Jets beneath its wings flared up, lifting the entire ship a foot into the air as if it weighed absolutely nothing. Two compartments on either side opened up, offering them entrance into its spacious hull. Meanwhile, the "top" of the cavern simply slid away, like the lid of a jar, exposing a view of the night sky – tinged slightly pink by the approaching dawn.

"What…sorcery _is_ this?" Goliath whispered, placing one claw upon the now-airborne machine.

"You only need…to enter…" said Minerva. "And it…will take you…home…"

Claw, who had been uncharacteristically inexpressive throughout most of this, suddenly and vigorously shook his head. Goliath echoed the sentiment.

"We thank you for your offer. But we cannot return yet," he stated, with as much stoicism as he could muster. "Three members of their clan – of _our_ clan – are still unaccounted for. Leaving without them is out of the question."

Minerva, however, simply nodded, as if she had been expecting this. She approached the crystal herself, if a bit trepidatiously.

"Before…go to…New York…" she ordered it. "Stop at…House…of Salvation…"

The crystal glowed again, in apparent acceptance of these new instructions. Satisfied, the Cheetah-Woman turned back to Goliath.

"Only place…they could be…" she added, inclining her head toward the gargoyle. "Now…go. Leave…this Island…behind…"

Thug, who was in the process of being helped onto the ship by Claw, turned to the Beast-Woman. "Ya could come with us, y'know?" he said. "I know I shouldn't speak fer Talon, but…our whole 'clan' is full o' castaways. Lost souls with nowhere else ta go. Ya wouldn't have ta be alone."

But Minerva simply took a step back, sadness overtaking her eyes. Sadness…and resignation.

"This is…my home…" she struggled to articulate, as the airship started to rise further. Hurriedly, Goliath led the two mutate children through the other hatch door. "I will not…abandon it…"

"Are you certain of this, Minerva?" asked the gargoyle solemnly. "Even if you risk being punished by the Doctor and his followers?"

She nodded, one last time.

"I live…my life…in service…" she muttered. "If…I should die…the same way…"

Her deep, golden eyes met Goliath's one last time, before finishing, "…So be it."

Those eyes were the last thing he saw before the ship's doors slid shut, as smoothly and as automatically as they had opened.

Then, like a will-o-the-wisp streaking through the night, it took flight for the sky above.

[-]

 **House of Salvation**

 **June 8, 1997 A.D.**

"It really was polite of these guys…" said Derek, as he barricaded the doors and vents around the lab with whatever detritus he could find. "To wait until _after_ the birth to start howling for our blood again."

"Polite, nothing. The timing was too close for it to be a coincidence," replied his sister, who was pitching in to do the same – albeit with quite a bit more difficulty, since she lacked super-strength. " _Something_ about what we were doing must've been…keeping them at bay, somehow. Just wish we knew what."

There was a great, derisive snort from the opposite corner, and both Maza siblings turned to face the source. Despite their very different faces, the scowls they wore were nigh-identical.

"Something funny, doc?" Elisa demanded. "Look, literally the _only_ thing I trust about you is your self-preservation instinct. Those dog-things aren't gonna differentiate between you and us. So if you're not gonna help…"

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong!" he countered, though he kept his feet kicked up on the Doctor's desk. It was _beyond_ irritating. "For I have deduced the solution to our mutual dilemma! _Really_ now, it's a wonder you 'heroes' have _ever_ managed to survive without someone like me in your corner."

"Get. To. The point," growled Derek dangerously.

Sevarius let out a little cough. "Well, _ahem_ …it's obvious, isn't it? These laboratories can't be _intended_ to host childbirth," he said. "Most likely, we're standing in the precise location where Moreau typically practices his little 'procedures.' And if _you_ were that second-rate hack, would you want your previous creations interrupting your work on the next?"

The geneticist finally stood up, strode over to a bottle sitting on a nearby counter – and tipped over its entire contents. A pungent odor filled the air.

"The clatter of surgical tools. The scent of antiseptic," he continued on, sounding even more full of himself than usual. "If it was _me,_ I would've been sure to program an instinctive revulsion to these things during the initial conditioning. Even if – as seems to be the case – these creatures have reverted to their animal natures, those instincts remain on a subconscious level."

"Meaning if we can trick them into thinking we're still 'practicing medicine,' they'll scurry off," murmured Elisa. A moment later she snapped her fingers, realizing something. " _That's_ what the Doctor was trying to say before they attacked. He was just too late to get started."

Derek didn't waste any time, grabbing the tray filled with Sevarius' used, soiled instruments and rattling it around like a tambourine. Elisa took a wet rag, dunked it in the spilled antiseptic, and began smearing it around the walls, spreading the smell.

Of course, all this frantic activity didn't take long to rouse the baby, who started wailing at the top of his lungs. Maggie held him close and cooed softly, but this did little to calm him down.

"Come one, let's look on the bright side. Those things probably scream a _lot_ when he's Frankensteining it up. Maybe this'll help use fake it!" said Elisa, earning a very skeptical look from her younger brother. "Okay, sometimes bright sides can be pretty dark. So sue me."

Suddenly, something heavy slammed against the barricaded door. The entire room seemed to shake from the impact.

"I…I don't believe this is working," Maggie whispered, as she continued to gently rock her son back and forth in her arms – to minimal avail. "And I won't be of much use if they manage to get in."

"I _won't_ let it come to that," Derek declared firmly, though one look in his catlike eyes and his sister could tell he didn't have a backup plan. _None_ of them did.

"Let's…just keep doing what we were doing," responded Elisa, biting her lip as she picked the rag back up and resumed spreading the odor. "It might at least buy us some time."

But no matter how much noise they made, or how many other ways they tried to "fake" one of the Doctor's procedures, the barking and scratching didn't abate. Their efforts, it seemed, were too little, too late.

The wolf, both literally and figuratively, was already at the door.

"This really is just _so_ delightful, Detective," said Anton after a few minutes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Absolutely _sterling_ leadership all around!"

"Hey, it's _your_ brilliant idea that's failing right now, Mr. Mad Scientist!" she pointed out.

"And I suppose I'm the _only_ person who's supposed to come up with one!" he yelled back. "Try to be a little more self-sufficient, will you? It sends the wrong message to all the silly little girls looking up to you!"

At that moment, it became very hard to remember why she _wasn't_ opening up the door and tossing Anton Sevarius ass-first into the throng of Dog-Men.

Throughout all of this, her nephew had been bawling at the top of his tiny lungs. It certainly wasn't doing any favors for their dwindling reserves of patience.

Finally, at his wit's end, Sevarius turned around and snapped, "Oh, will you shut that brat _up,_ for the sake of Sageret's sagging rump? Or is that yet _another_ thing you need 'the bad guy' to do?"

Derek immediately moved between them, getting right up into the scientist's face.

"Not. One. _Step,_ " he said, while bearing every one of his very sharp teeth.

"Well, we need to do _something_ before those mongrels manage to breach our defenses!" exclaimed Sevarius. The pounding on the door was growing louder and more hectic by the moment. "That unholy racket is only drawing _more_ attention to our location! And it's not like some wonderfully convenient Deus ex Machina is going to crash right through that roof any second n…"

That was, naturally, the moment part of the ceiling chose to collapse, as a large metal _something_ wedged itself through the resulting hole.

"Oof…" spoke a deep, familiar voice from within it. "Look, I know she said it don't need a pilot…but I'd be a _lot_ comfier with ya at this helm, Talon!"

It seemed to be a vehicle of some sort, though Elisa could only see one corner of it. But her surprise at its sudden appearance was dwarfed by the sight of a hatch opening – and the color of the arm that reached out through it.

"I have told you before, Elisa," said Goliath, offering her his open claw. "I will _always_ be there to catch you."


	7. Epilogue: Hypoxanthine

_**Gargoyles – The Island – Epilogue: Hypoxanthine**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

[-]

 **Gen-U-Tech Systems, New York City**

 **July 16, 1995 A.D.**

Maggie Reed looked into the mirror being held before her, barely able to comprehend the face staring back.

"That…" she whispered, sheer horror having driven nearly all the energy from her voice. "That _can't_ be me…"

"Oh, but it _is,_ ma belle mademoiselle!" said Anton Sevarius, who by contrast, couldn't have sounded more gleeful. He leaned casually upon his cane, his posture making it clear he didn't actually need it to stand. "Congratulations on being one of the first to take a step into a brave new world of human progress! Why, you're practically a pioneer!"

"No…" mumbled Maggie. "No no no no no no no _no_ …"

She was backing away from him, clutching at herself. Of course, since she was currently encased in a glass enclosure, barely large enough to move around in, she didn't get far.

The mad doctor, meanwhile, simply continued to leer. He wasn't a very tall man, but with her trying to shrink back into the furthest corner, tearstained eyes squeezed resolutely shut, he seemed to tower over the quivering woman.

"Come now, you really are being _so_ unreasonable," he told her. "From a gain-loss standpoint, you've come out quite ahead! It's not like you've been deprived of any of your previous functionality, after all. And what grand prizes you've managed to reap in return! _Panthera leo,_ _Myotis lucifugus,_ and even a nice, healthy sprinkling of _Electrophorus electricus._ Oh, it's enough to almost make me envious of my own test subject!"

"Not like I've been…?" Maggie repeated, her mouth hanging open. "You turned me into a _monster!_ "

"Your choice of words. Not mine," said Sevarius, his lip curling. "Personally, I think you're _far_ more fetching in this form. Or more interesting, at any rate."

Maggie was barely listening. She just kept retreating further and further into her own head – but the only image she was able to picture remained her own, hideous visage.

"This was your plan all along," she gasped out, the betrayal still stinging. "All that crap about working as your assistant…"

The geneticist held up both hands. "Okay, _that_ I'll cop to," he admitted. "Not that I wouldn't pay you if I had the ability! But in fairness, we never got around to swapping wire transfer details before the… _ahem,_ procedure. I could pay you under the table in cash, I suppose. But…well, I can't guarantee you'll have much luck _spending_ it, will you?"

"Of _course_ I can't!" she roared, emotion swelling up through her chest until it was overflowing. Reflexively, she lashed out with one arm, swinging it wildly – and was taken aback as a burst of electricity discharged from her fingertips, slamming against the glass.

Sevarius' leer grew even wider, like a kid watching his action figure demonstrate its accessories and light-up features.

Maggie, for her part, wasn't usually one for wearing her anger and distress on her sleeve. But as the electricity hung in the air, filling her snout-like nose with the scent of ozone, she felt it all come pouring out.

"My life is _over,_ " she said, her voice a dull moan. "Looking like this…I'll never even be able to walk down the street. I'll never get to act again. And…"

She pulled her knees up to her chest, and clung tightly to herself. Her wings, wretched abominations though they were, curled around her body in a vain grasp for comfort.

Through choked sobs, she murmured, "And no one will _ever_ love me…"

[-]

 **The Labyrinth, New York City**

 **June 9, 1997 A.D.**

Maggie's eyes drifted open, slowly. After the past forty-eight hours, she'd come to recognize – and not particularly enjoy – the sensation of waking up in a hospital bed.

But the sight that greeted her _this_ time washed away any lingering traces of negativity.

Her son was dozing peacefully in the burly, black-furred arms of his father. Derek's teeth pulled upward into a tired but warm smile.

"You're up," he said, speaking softly so as not to wake the baby. "How are you feeling?"

"I…can't honestly say this has been one of the _favorite_ acts from my life," she replied. "Please tell me we're almost at final curtain."

Derek chuckled at her theatre metaphor. "Just about," he quipped back. "But our lead actress still has to join the cast for the closing bow. You up for a few visitors? You, uh…kinda built up a bit of a line while you were out."

He glanced toward the closed door, looking more than a tad apprehensive, and Maggie's light laughter joined his.

"In a minute," stated the lioness-mutate, after a brief pause. "But first…can I hold my son a little longer?"

"Of course," Derek breathed out, bending down so he could pass the boy over as carefully as possible. She held him close to her breast, marveling at how heavy he felt, now that her senses were no longer dulled by drugs.

They sat like that for several moments, just the three of them. Their surroundings – the old Cyberbiotics lab that Thug had repurposed into a med bay – might've unnerved her, once upon a time. Certainly, she'd had _more_ than her fill of laboratories.

But even though this complex was underground, and long-abandoned, and probably breaking a hundred medical safety laws, being back in the Labyrinth… _comforted_ her.

At long last, she was _home._ Home with her family, old _and_ new.

"This…This is really happening," she muttered, staring down at the tiny thing in her arms. "He's _here._ A little bit of me. A little bit of you."

"Hopefully more the former than the latter," said Derek, smiling wryly. "I think one Talon is _more_ than enough for the Labyrinth to deal with."

Maggie laughed again, then leaned over slightly, to offer a brief kiss for the man she loved.

"Alright," she told him, each of their catlike eyes holding firm to the others'. "You can send them in."

[-]

What followed was a parade of greeters and well-wishers that could've filled a lineup of Saturday-morning cartoons.

Derek's family came in first, of course, fresh off planes from Phoenix and Prague. Maggie felt a warm swell in her heart as she passed the child over to her mother-in-law (well…for a given definition of "law"), even as it was accompanied by a dull pang she couldn't quite describe.

Though she was fairly certain she knew the cause.

"Oh, God Almighty. He's _beautiful,_ " said Diane Maza, her eyes shimmering. "A grandson, Peter. We have a _grandson_ …"

"I'm so glad he's healthy," added her husband, pragmatic as always – though he too looked a bit misty-eyed. "But has the OB had a chance to examine them yet? Based on what you just told us, the baby wasn't exactly born in… _ideal_ circumstances."

"There was a lot to take care of when we got back," Elisa explained, her voice hoarse from relaying the whole "crazy island" story for the third time now. "Stowing away that flying machine for Lexington to examine, restraining Sevarius until I can bring him to the precinct…but yeah. We got a call out to Doctor Shirakawa a few hours ago. She's on her way."

"It's definitely a lot to process. Even if I _didn't_ have a newborn nephew on top of everything," remarked Beth with a sigh. "Folkloric figures like Coyote or Anansi are one thing, but Doctor Moreau? I'm really gonna have to reevaluate my whole stance on fact versus fiction."

"Trust me," responded her sister. "You get used to it."

As if taking that as their cue, the door to the lab opened again, and several members of the Manhattan Clan of gargoyles filtered in.

"Oh, this is so wonderful!" exclaimed Angela. "We never got to see human children on Avalon. Congratulations, all of you."

"He looks so different from Alex," Lexington observed, leaning forward to examine the boy. "But similar, too. It's…hard to describe."

"Aye, lad. There's a _spark_ tae new life, that innae bound by race nae land ae birth," said Hudson, placing a leathery claw on each of their shoulders. "'E may nottae 'atched from an egg, but the look on 'is face is the very same as e'ry rookery child I e'er reared."

Technically, there _was_ an egg involved, but Maggie decided not to quibble about the human gestation process. She appreciated the sentiment all the same.

Goliath, who brought up the rear, smiled warmly. "We will not be long. I know it is important that your clan, your… _family,_ have time to yourselves, to welcome this child into the world," he told Peter and Diane, bowing his head respectfully to them both. "But _mine_ was quite eager to witness this miracle for themselves."

The African-American woman returned her grandson to Maggie's waiting arms, then walked over to pat Goliath lightly on his broad, muscular forearm.

"The way Elisa tells it, there's no one more responsible for my grandson returning here safely than you, Goliath," declared Diane. "Bless you. There's no telling how many times over my family owes you our lives."

That actually seemed to throw the ever-stoic warrior off a bit, as he looked like he wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"Well, you see…" he began, and for the first time since meeting the hulking gargoyle, Maggie thought he actually seemed… _sheepish?_ It was kind of adorable. "That is to say…we do not exactly 'keep score.' But I assure you that Elisa has returned the favor, _just_ as often."

Maggie was sure she didn't miss the pink that appeared in Elisa's cheeks at these words – or the resultant looks that passed between Derek, Beth, Peter, and Diane. There was an entire, silent conversation taking place, which only those who'd grown up in the Maza household would quite be able to understand, but the lioness-mutate got the gist.

For now, she decided it wasn't her role to butt in. But she saw the small frown on Derek's lips, much as he tried to suppress it, and she found herself scowling in turn.

She wouldn't say anything. Not today, of all days. But this argument, unspoken as it was, was _far_ from over.

"So, uh…anyway," said Beth after a little while, coughing awkwardly. "You given any thought to naming this little guy?"

Elisa crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Well, he turned down all of _my_ helpful suggestions," she grumbled in mock-offense.

Maggie, meanwhile, shared a long look with the man she loved. He broke into a grin, and she did the same.

"Actually, we discussed this on the flight over. Though I guess I must've fallen back asleep halfway through," she answered. "But we settled on something we could both accept."

"Thomas Willie Maza," added Derek, beaming with pride as he looked down upon his son. "Thom for short – with an 'H.' I've always liked it spelled that way."

"Thom, huh?" repeated Lexington, looking thoughtful. "Yeah…I like the sound of that."

"Oh, he shares a name with our Guardian!" said Angela. "I can think of no better title for a young warrior."

"He's named after Tennessee Williams, actually. His birth name was Thomas Lanier Williams III," Maggie told them. "He was always my favorite playwright."

Beth stifled a giggle. "Gee. Who could've ever guessed?" she murmured, though in good humor.

"We were even gonna go with 'Williams' or 'William' for the middle name. But she gave me permission to tweak the spelling to match Willie Mays," Derek continued to explain. He held up both hands preemptively. "Hey, if she can reference _her_ MVP, I get to do the same!"

All of the humans in the room broke into laughter. The gargoyles just looked at each other in confusion.

"Well, sounds like you've got all your bases covered," stated Peter, once the mirth died down. He apparently missed his own pun, since he raised an eyebrow as both his daughters started chuckling again. "That is…unless the boy winds up hating baseball _and_ theatre."

"In the city that gave us the Mets _and_ Broadway? Err…the street, not the gargoyle," Elisa replied, smiling wryly at the older man. "Dad, you raised three born-and-bred New Yorkers. Them's fighting words in this town."

The exchange continued for some time in that general vein, as an increasingly defensive Peter tried to explain – badly – that he hadn't meant any offense, an argument none of the Maza siblings were willing to accept.

It took him a remarkably long time to realize they were all just pulling his leg. And all the while, Maggie and Diane just laughed longer and harder.

The lioness-mutate soon lost track of time, as her adoptive family continued to trade good-natured barbs, in the way only people glued tightly by bonds of love and trust could. Take away the underground lab and the quintet of progressively bewildered gargoyles, and the scene could've come straight out of a heartwarming family special.

That same, dull ache in Maggie's chest returned, all the stronger.

Before she could give it any more thought, however, the door to the laboratory opened once again.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Delilah, who was flanked by Malibu and Claw. Thug was still recovering from his injuries in another room. "But your doctor is here. Should I…?"

"You can send her in," Derek cut in immediately. "And we'll all get out of your hair in the meantime. Doctor Shirakawa's gotten the whole 'Ripley's Believe It or Not' tour already, but no sense spooking her any more than we have to."

There was a general murmur of assent, as the gathered members of the Maza family and Manhattan Clan bid their goodbyes and final well-wishes to the new mother.

"We'll pick you up something to eat when we get back up. Least we can do," Peter offered. "I'm sure you folks have, erm… _facilities_ of your own down here, but Marano's is open twenty-four hours these days."

"Trust me. As someone who went through this three times over," added his wife, smiling bemusedly. "Nothing helps the recovery faster than a hot, steaming, brutally unhealthy pizza."

"Hey, count me in!" said Elisa, chuckling again as she and her siblings moved to follow their parents. "That's what was always missing during the World Tour. Would've been a _lot_ easier to deal with gods, aliens, and were-panthers if I'd been guaranteed a few slices afterw…"

But she was interrupted by a hand seizing her, albeit gently, around the arm.

"Once the examination is finished…" muttered Maggie, quietly enough that only she could hear. "Come back, won't you? There's something I'm hoping you can do for me. And…it's not something I'd feel comfortable asking anyone else."

Elisa clearly didn't have a clue what she was getting at, but nodded all the same.

"Of course," she whispered back.

Then she joined the others, filing out of the slightly cramped laboratory one at a time.

The last thing Maggie heard, before the door closed behind them, was either Delilah or Elisa – probably the former, since she used "Talon" rather than "Derek" – adding something in hushed tones.

"Talon. Goliath. There's something you both need to know."

[-]

"He _escaped?!_ " roared Talon, loud enough that his sister had to place a hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him of the newborn sleeping in the other room.

"Guess we shouldn't be surprised," she said bitterly. "No matter how tightly we lock Sevarius up, he _always_ finds a crack to slip through. Like a cockroach."

With the three other Mazas having returned to the surface for a pizza run, and Claw and Malibu leading the search party, the only ones receiving this briefing were Talon, Elisa, and the Manhattan gargoyles.

"And even worse, you say he has absconded with the Doctor's flying machine," spoke Goliath gravely. "Regretful. Even if such a vehicle would be of little use to our clan, I had hoped it might aid one of our allies. The London Clan, perhaps. Or the King Pendragon."

"Aw, man," Lexington groused. "I was looking forward to taking that thing apart! The way you described it, Goliath…it's not like _any_ ship I've ever heard of before."

"How would he even control such a contraption?" asked Angela, furrowing her brow ridge. "That man's as intelligent as he is evil, but I never got the sense he knew much about piloting. He had his men do it for him at Loch Ness."

"The machine was remarkably… _intuitive,_ " Goliath attempted to explain. "It was clearly powered by some kind of sorcery. When I used it, I had but to speak a destination."

"And at the speed that thing flies, he could be halfway across the world by now," said Elisa, massaging at both temples with her pointer fingers. "God… _just_ what we needed after the last couple nights."

"Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit _dammit,_ " Talon rumbled, smashing his fist against the nearest wall.

"Perhaps…" Hudson stated suddenly. "Ittae fer the best."

"What do you mean?" demanded the mutate leader, immediately rounding on him. "After everything he's done…!"

"I'm not aboot tae deny 'is crimes. At this point, there innae any justice too good fer 'im – in this world, _ae_ beyond it," Hudson answered, his tones calm and pensive. "But the way yeh tell it, 'e spent last night in service tae a good deed. Maybe the first one in 'is 'ole miserable life."

"Only under duress," Elisa pointed out, frowning. "And only because none of us had _any_ other choice."

"Still, lass. When yeh get tae be my age, one thing yeh realize is this: gargoyle, 'uman, Child ae Oberon. At the core, we're all _people_ – e'en the ones twisted as 'im. An' people innae e'er simple," said the old soldier. "Nae, I won't pretend there's much 'ope fer 'im. 'E's made 'is roost, an' that's where 'e'll rest. Redemption's only a path fer those who _choose_ tae walk it."

He took a deep breath, and crossed his leathery arms in front of his chest.

"But maybe, jus' this once…'e's earned jus' a _wee_ bittae freedom," he continued on. "Dinnae mean we stop lookin' fer 'im. Dinnae mean we 'esitate, if throwin' 'im in chains means 'e cannae 'urt anyone e'er again."

"But it means it would not be the end of the world…if we failed to recapture him _this_ night," Goliath finished for him, his expression brooding.

Talon let out a long sigh. "I… _guess_ you have a point. Sort of," he admitted begrudgingly. "I just wish I knew _how_ that snake managed to slither away. That cage was triple-locked; I checked it myself. And Claw, Hollywood, and Al were all standing guard. But they all said – well, minus Claw – that they didn't see anything."

"You know, I've been meaning to talk to you guys about upgrading your security here," piped up Lexington. "Cameras, audio receivers, motion detectors…Amp's a real nerd for that kinda stuff. He's been sending me a bunch of really interesting material about it. Doesn't cost all that much these days, if you know where to buy."

"Let's table this for another night, Lex. But we're _definitely_ interested," Talon replied. "For now…I'd appreciate having my detective sister, plus her crack crime-fighting monster squad, help me out with investigating. Maybe Sevarius left behind a clue to his next whereabouts."

"One thing's for sure," said Elisa. "Wherever he's off to now…he'll be stirring up a whole _new_ mess of trouble."

[-]

 **Nightstone Unlimited, New York City**

 **June 9, 1997 A.D.**

"Enjoying your new toys, doctor?" asked a young, Middle Eastern woman, through what seemed to be a near-perpetual smirk.

"Oh, _extremely,_ " sneered Anton Sevarius, as he stirred crimson liquid around in a beaker until it turned a nasty purple. "Even better than the last lab Ms. Destine put up for me. Or is that name verboten in these particular halls?"

His employer emerged through the doorway, his armor gleaming brightly – as if it'd just been polished.

"By all means, feel free to speak of her as much you like. It's not as if she's been doing all that much in the way of her… _executive duties,_ " said Thailog, chuckling darkly. "Now, shall we get down to business?"

"Ah, not wasting time, are we?" Sevarius responded, briefly setting aside his lab implements. "No surprise. While I'm quite grateful for your assistant's…well, _assistance_ …I was certain it couldn't _possibly_ come out of the goodness of your heart. I should know – I didn't put any in."

The clone laughed again, this time far more maniacally.

"Oh, Sevarius. While I'm not particularly fond of _any_ of my fathers, you're certainly the one who… _amuses_ me the most. At least on occasion," he told the geneticist. "And you're also the most useful to me. Now, while I know you're strictly freelance these days…"

"You have some projects that'll require me to stay put for a little while," Sevarius finished for him, his tone eager and agreeable. "Do you have even _more_ fun planned for the DNA collected last Halloween?"

"Among others," answered Thailog, with a leer that showed he knew _exactly_ how much he was piquing the mad doctor's interest. "But we can discuss that tomorrow night. For now, get yourself acclimated – and make sure to check in on _that_ project. You know the one. Shari here has been taking notes on their progress in your absence, but she lacks your expert eye."

"Right you are, 'Mr.' Thailog," said Sevarius, speaking the honorific as if it was the punchline to a very funny joke. It was a mark of just _how_ useful he was that the clone didn't wring his neck right then and there.

Instead, he turned to his assistant and ordered, "Shari. Show it to me, will you?"

The young woman nodded her head, and replied, "Yes, Mr. Thailog."

A few moments later, the two of them were standing atop the roof of Nightstone Unlimited corporate headquarters, a few feet away from the helipad that sat at its crown.

At the center of the helipad, a vehicle was parked – but it didn't resemble any helicopter Thailog had ever seen before.

"Magnificent. And that's not a word I use very often," he declared. "How'd you manage to smuggle it _and_ Sevarius out of the Labyrinth, without breaking your cover?"

Shari's smile simply widened. "A lady _must_ have her secrets," she said.

Thailog weighed his options, before deciding not to press further. Instead he strode forward, placing a claw against the sleek material of the flying machine. It felt like nothing he'd ever touched before.

"I don't suppose I'm allowed to keep it," he murmured, already knowing the answer.

The storyteller shook her head once, looking for all the world as if – given a choice in the matter – she would've allowed him to hold onto this miracle machine forever.

She was _very_ good at faking that sort of thing, and it was easy to be taken in if he wasn't careful.

Stepping to his side, Shari explained, "I'm afraid the _Wilhelmina_ is one-of-a-kind, and irreplaceable. With so many of the natural veins tapped, it may well represent the single largest deposit of Orichalcum left in the world. It needs to be returned to where it belongs."

"So I suppose you'll be the one doing the returning?" asked the clone. "Given your Rank, I'm surprised the Society seems to so frequently treat you as their little errand girl."

"Actually, I'll be using it to make an… _ahem_ …prior engagement," she said, already approaching the ship's belly. A hatch opened at her touch. "Funnily enough, I believe the one who'll be _physically_ returning this old girl outranks even me. But that's just a coincidence. He already had business to address on the Island, so it all works out."

"And I'm guessing you wouldn't explain further, even if I ordered you to?" Thailog pressed her further, narrowing his eyes at the Middle Eastern girl.

Shari, who already had one foot inside the _Wilhelmina,_ turned back and offered her pleasantest, most disarming smile.

"Oh, I'd certainly tell you a story, at least," she spoke brightly. "Though who can say if it be true?"

[-]

 **Beast Folk City, The Island**

 **June 11, 1997 A.D.**

The Doctor hovered silently, amidst the ruins of a once-proud city.

He'd spent most of the past three days simply observing; cataloguing the end of an era. Before Montgomery's appalling blunder, there'd been precisely one thousand, fifty-seven Beast Folk on the Island – males, females, and children alike.

Now, well over half that number had reverted completely, in mind if not body. The survivors were spread all across the Island, hunted by those they'd once called friend or neighbor, desperately trying to stave off their own degeneration.

Where he could, he'd endeavored to help. There was little risk of even the most dangerous Beast Folk actually harming him, given his current capabilities. This latest chassis was a construction of "Vincent Leonardo" himself, and was better-armed than several small countries.

But while he'd had a few isolated successes dragging frantic Beast Folk back to the House of Salvation for "remolding," there was no possible way for him to stem the tide.

There were simply too _many_ in need of healing, and only one Doctor. More to the point, his only recent achievements had been with Beast Folk who were right on the brink.

Once they crossed a certain threshold, the poor creatures were beyond even _his_ help.

And on top of all that, the House itself was in the worst shape it'd seen in _decades._ His own "security forces" had torn it to shreds, and certain parts of the building were now deathtraps crawling with vicious beasts. So much of his equipment, supplies, and other resources had been ruined in the crossfire, that every procedure was plagued by critical shortages.

With the last of his children he'd tried to help, a little catlike boy…he'd been forced to proceed without anesthesia, unable to find a single untainted bottle anywhere in his stores.

The child's mind had been cured. But his body couldn't withstand the strain.

Right now, the Doctor wasn't sure how different the Island was from the way he'd found it, nearly a century ago. If nothing else, "House of Pain" seemed a _far_ more appropriate moniker for the seat of his power…

Than the sanitized renaming he'd enshrined into the Law, in his first official act as its guardian.

And the worst part…was that it was _all_ his own fault. Sure, it was Montgomery's foolishness that'd tipped the scale, but _he_ was the one who'd introduced outsiders to the Island for the first time in decades, and thus kick-started the entire, disastrous affair.

All of which, it turned out, had been for _nothing._ The samples he'd collected from Sevarius' "mutates," the testimony of the mad young fool himself… _none_ of it held the answer he sought. The answer of how to save his children.

In retrospect, it was the equivalent of fighting an insect infestation by burning down one's own house. He hadn't actually solved the original problem; just made it so, _so_ much worse.

Which didn't mean he was about to let Montgomery off the hook, of course. Not only had he taken matters into his own hands, to try and eradicate a perceived threat …but he'd used _his_ name, _his_ authority, in order to do so.

The Doctor _had_ to make an example out of such treason.

If it was any of the other Beast Folk, he wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe he would've, once upon a time, but years had hardened the heart he no longer possessed. Anyone else _would_ die.

Nevertheless…he _couldn't_ bring himself to do it. He didn't love Montgomery – not exactly. He wasn't sure he was capable of that emotion now, or if he'd _ever_ been.

But the Gorilla-Man _did_ love him. Fully and unreservedly. Part of that was the nigh-religious fervor he instilled in all the Beast Folk during their initial conditioning; a necessary evil to keep them pliant and, therefore, safe. Yet he'd grown _far_ beyond that original starting point.

In his very long life, the Doctor had experienced many things. He'd been ignored, worshipped, tolerated, outright _hated._ But never loved.

He was too weak to give that up.

That's why, in a distant corner of this Island, Montgomery sat alone in a cave – a collar around his neck and a switch in his hand. The switch, he'd explained, would provide the only suitable punishment for the Gorilla-Man's crimes.

The very same pain he'd inflicted on all his brothers and sisters.

Montgomery was to use the switch at his own discretion, applying exactly as much suffering as he felt he deserved. Once he decided to return to the Doctor's side, all would be forgiven.

Unsurprisingly, the Doctor hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for the past three days. He couldn't have picked a harsher judge.

" _Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!_ "

The Doctor's reverie was broken up by frantic barking a few meters away. The Doctor's optical sensors directed themselves downward, and if he had a face it would've fallen a great deal.

It was Vance, one of his Sayers. Chosen for his uniquely gifted mind and silver tongue to speak the Doctor's will, keeping this magnificent City in order beneath the banner of the Law.

Now, apart from his misshapen, vaguely humanlike body, he was indistinguishable from any other canine.

Another reminder of his failure.

The Doctor hovered over, and used one of his claws to gently scratch behind the former Sayer's ear. He whined pleasurably, but still seemed agitated by something. Instinctively, the Doctor followed the creature's eyes, up into the skies above.

At first, he saw nothing. But soon enough, a shape emerged from the clouds, barreling at great speed toward the ruins of Beast Folk City.

Vance was beside himself now, barking madly, and the Doctor used two tentacles to hold him close. It was the least he owed the miserable creature.

Besides…he knew _exactly_ what the shape was.

The Doctor watched on as the _Wilhelmina,_ the Atlantean flying machine he'd "confiscated" from a team of adventurers decades prior, touched down upon the area that'd once been the City marketplace. He supposed it was no great loss. The stands and stalls had all been torn to pieces, their produce and crudely crafted goods scattered to the four winds.

Certainly, nothing was ever going to be bought or sold here again.

The hatch to the vehicle opened, and out stepped a man the Doctor had first met in 1887 – immediately following the most trying episode of his "former" life.

"Eight," said the Doctor, gently depositing Vance to the side so that he could approach the dapper gentleman, his perfectly pressed Armani suit a stark contrast from the surrounding ruins.

"Five," Watson Doyle answered promptly, hands folded casually over his emerald-topped cane. "It's been too long, Mr. Prendick."

[-]

 **House of Pain, The Island**

 **October 5, 1887 A.D.**

"I'm sorry, Mr. Doyle," murmured Edward Prendick, sagging into a chair in utter defeat. "I tried, I _really_ did. And what I've accomplished now, after six long months…even this is _far_ beyond the dreams of conventional science. It just isn't quite enough."

The slick-haired gentleman leaned forward, producing an eyeglass apparently from nowhere and peering at the jar before them.

"And what exactly _is_ it that you've accomplished?" he asked, not really sounding all that concerned. "Apologies. As I've told you before, this is _far_ from my areas of expertise."

"The compound you gave me…what you call 'Grail Water.' It was enough to restore a functional level of life to Moreau's brain," said Prendick, gesturing to the lump of gray flesh floating within the jar. Various wires and sensors protruded from its crinkled lobes. "But alive is _all_ it is. If it was still inside Moreau's body…he'd be a vegetable. And that's putting it generously."

"I see…" responded Doyle, tapping lightly upon the glass with a single finger. "Then there's no possible way to restore his brilliant mind?"

Prendick shook his head despondently.

"He was simply left out there too long. By the time we retrieved his brain, a great deal of its functions had already shut down," he attempted to explain. "Right now, it'd be a miracle just to get it to respond to stimuli _at all._ He's never doing science again, that's for bloody sure."

Doyle let out a long, heavy sigh. "Such a shame," he stated coolly. "But if you are quite certain…"

Without further warning, he turned the emerald clockwise by ninety degrees. With a flash, a blade emerged from the tip of his cane. Then, in one fluid motion, he stabbed it straight into the jar, skewering Moreau's brain, and pulled his arm back.

The fleshy organ flew backward, sailing off the sword and plopping ignominiously upon the laboratory floor.

"Wh…Why…" mumbled Prendick, utterly horrified. "Why would you…?"

"Grail water is a highly precious resource. And if your findings are accurate, then this experiment is an utter waste of it," said Doyle, now calmly wiping off the blade with a thick handkerchief. "A shame, as I said. I quite liked Moreau. Did I ever mention he gave me this face?"

Prendick was still rendered speechless, so the older man went on, "The Detective and I both went over Reichenbach Falls, as I'm sure you know. Of course, only one of us had an emergency phial of Grail water. Still, the Society determined it was best that the survivor of the fall be…shall we say, _obfuscated._ So Moreau, a fresh initiate at the time, was employed to craft for me such a close likeness of the Detective's face, it could fool even his mother. I know – I checked."

A beat of silence fell upon the laboratory. Then, barely even managing a whisper, an astonished Prendick mouthed, "You mean you're…"

Doyle chuckled; a cruel, humorless sound. "Well it's not as if I was doing much to _hide_ it," he answered, his lips twitching. "My chosen alias is less a mystery than an invitation, _daring_ pretenders to the Detective's mantle to dig further. Not that any have yet managed to do so and live."

The older gentleman twisted the emerald again, returning his cane to its original state. Then he extracted a solid-gold pocket watch from his coat, and frowned slightly.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave. My schedule is never lacking for activity," he added, already halfway out the door. "But the Society won't forget your efforts, Mr. Prendick. You did the best you could. I'll make sure to arrange a ship so that you can finally leave this godforsaken…"

"Take me instead."

Doyle's hand froze in midair. "Care to repeat that, Mr. Prendick?" he said, without turning back around.

"I know I'm nowhere near Moreau's equal, intellectually or otherwise," continued Prendick, rising out of his chair. "But I've gotten this far, haven't I? With nothing but my own ingenuity, and his notes. You said it yourself, when we first met. Your precious 'Society' is going to _need_ a new expert in the machinery of the body."

"All true," replied Doyle. "And I can't say I'm not impressed by your… _initiative._ But this isn't fully my decision. What do you wish me to tell my 'colleagues'? That instead of the unparalleled genius who made this Island a haven for his biological miracles…I bring the lowly boy who marooned here by _accident?_ "

Prendick might've objected to the word "haven." The word "boy," too – he was thirty-three, after all. But he wasn't about to waste time quibbling over semantics.

Instead, he asked the other man, "What if you _didn't_ tell them?"

Doyle raised a single eyebrow, evidently intrigued. He dipped a hand, a silent invitation for Prendick to elaborate.

"If this 'Society' of yours is as powerful and intelligent as you claim, no doubt _some_ will figure it out. But I'll face those consequences if and when they come," he said. "In the meantime, a human brain suspended in this life support system is what they're expecting. And so…that's what they're going to get."

Now Doyle was giving his undivided attention, as if seeing the younger man in an entirely new light.

"You are truly committed to this," he muttered, sounding impressed in spite of himself. "But _why?_ You know more than anyone, having tinkered with this machinery for months, precisely _how_ risky this experiment would be. And even if it succeeds…"

He took a step forward, looking Prendick straight in the eyes.

"Would it truly be worth it?" he demanded coolly. "What _could_ be worth giving up your very humanity?"

[-]

 **Beast Folk City, The Island**

 **June 11, 1997 A.D.**

"I remember the last time we stood together on these shores," said Watson Doyle, departing the _Wilhelmina_ with a smart tap against its hull with his cane. The hatch slid closed behind him. "The question I asked, and the answer you gave. To this day, it _fascinates_ me."

"I'm not especially in the mood, James," the Doctor responded shortly. He knew calling the master criminal by his given name – his _real_ given name – would be sure to raise his ire, and this was an encounter he'd prefer to hasten as much as possible.

The sharp-dressed gentleman, however, simply strode forward, peering at the feral Vance with cool detachment. The Dog-Man whined, frightened by the strange human, and attempted to hide behind the Doctor's chassis.

"These… _creatures._ You knew that if you didn't take Moreau's place, they'd eventually revert. And everything they'd managed to build would be lost," he continued on, ignoring the scientist's obvious hostility. "Something you wouldn't have been able to accomplish without the Illuminati's resources."

A panel directly below the canister that housed the Doctor's brain, which'd remained in one orientation throughout the adventures of the past few days, flipped around to display its reverse side.

It was emblazoned with the mark of a pyramid, topped by a brightly shining eye.

"We have a comfortable relationship, James. I do my assignments for the Society like a good little lab rat – and otherwise, this Island is left alone," said the Doctor. "I don't see any reason for you to upset that balance."

"I'm afraid that ship has already sailed, my friend," Doyle told him, shaking his head pityingly. "It'd be one thing if your little scheme had involved _only_ that peon Sevarius, and his merry bunch of chimerical creations. But whether intentionally or not, you _also_ abducted Detective Elisa Maza, and Goliath of the Manhattan Clan. Two assets which've managed to capture Duval's _personal_ attention."

"I made sure they were returned unharmed," the Doctor declared. "At great cost, I remind you."

The older man's lip curled upward.

"Yes, I suppose it all worked out," he remarked curtly. "If only by accident. It's really not like you to leave so many key variables to chance. What if our dear storyteller _hadn't_ managed to bring back this wondrous machine, hmm? It'd be a fine mess if it fell into enemy hands."

He gestured again at the _Wilhelmina,_ waving his cane grandly like a conductor leading an opera.

Two of the Doctor's tentacles tapped against the ground, his best way of expressing impatience.

"You assume much about my experimental parameters. But I may have a few more tools at my disposal than you seem to think," he said, before suddenly pointing all four claws toward a nearby pile of rubble. "You may as well come out now, child. You know there's no point in hiding from me."

From behind the wreckage of the city square, a lithe form slid along the ground, moving with catlike grace.

"Introduce yourself properly, Minerva," he ordered the Cheetah-Woman. "It's only polite."

Minerva coughed, drawing herself up to full height – which was well over seven feet.

Then, in a smooth voice that betrayed none of the stilted pronunciation she'd shown a few nights ago, she stated, "Thirty-six."

Doyle took a literal step back, looking truly surprised for the first time since touching down.

"Well now," he replied, folding both hands across each other and planting his cane square in the earth. "It seems your cat's paw is…remarkably _literal._ "

"I made sure the gargoyle stayed alive on this Island. By any means necessary," Minerva explained. "Of course, I _did_ truly hope he could help my brothers and sisters. I still hold out that _someone_ can. But in the meantime…"

"In the meantime, you'll need help to rebuild. I understand," the gentleman interjected, nodding once. He extracted a pen and a ledger from his suit pocket. "Now, to business. Mr. Prendick, despite your recent… _miscalculations,_ you're a single-digit member in good standing, and you've provided favors to the Upper Echelons on multiple occasions. I can appropriate for you…let's see, the equivalent of seventy million pounds. In whatever currency is most useful."

"Much as it pains my pride, I can't refuse the aid of the Illuminati's treasurer. I'll take it in rupees. Mr. Gisborne can supply most of what I'll need," said the Doctor. His words would've been punctuated with a sigh of resignation, if he still possessed lungs.

He had another request to make, though it pained him terribly to even consider it. Eventually, though, he added, "And…I could use a few of Tenzin's forces. Some of the Beast Folk can still be saved, but most are now too far gone. For the survival of those few I _can_ help…their feral brethren must be put down."

Minerva's eyes were shimmering, but she did not contradict her creator.

"I'll pass along your request," whispered Doyle, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But you know that Tenzin's favors don't come cheap."

"Whatever it turns out to be, I can pay it," the Doctor answered immediately. "You know better than anyone, Mr. Doyle…that I am capable of _anything._ "

"I find I cannot disagree with that assessment," said the other man – the so-called Napoleon of Crime. He was now walking toward the ruins of the Beast Folk City docks, which'd once fed hundreds with their bounty. "Now, if you'll excuse me. It appears my next appointment has arrived."

Emerging from the fog-strewn waters was what seemed to be an enormous, floating castle, approaching the Island's shores with no apparent method of propulsion. Minerva let out a low growl of surprise while Vance, back in the distance, barked madly, but the Doctor did not react.

At this point, it was a sight he'd seen quite often.

"Until next time, Mr. Prendick. M'lady," spoke Doyle, tipping his head to Minerva. "I wish you all the best. We'll be in touch about the particulars, once I free up the allocated funds."

None of them said another word until Watson Doyle had boarded the steps of Castle Carbonek, and disappeared into the cold, dark night.

Eventually, however, Minerva found herself asking, "Doctor…what do we do now?"

The Doctor didn't hesitate to answer. He floated away from the shoreline and began tossing away larger pieces of rubble with his tentacles, in the narrow possibility he might find a few straggling survivors.

"We do what we can," he said. "My children deserve more than that, of course. But it's all that's in my power to give."

He used one claw to beckon her to follow, and the Cheetah-Woman hastened to comply.

"After all, I am not Moreau. I am no worker of miracles," he continued on, and not for the first time, he was very glad he no longer held the capacity to cry. "I am merely a Doctor."

[-]

 **The Labyrinth, New York City**

 **June 9, 1997 A.D.**

"Now that you've delivered, I'm afraid it may be some time before your hormone imbalance resolves itself. There's a sharp drop in progesterone that accompanies childbirth, and it can take six to eight weeks before everything evens out," spoke a cool, professional female voice. "In the meantime, side effects can include fatigue, increased susceptibility to infection, and menstrual issues."

These were the first words that Elisa heard as she reentered the Labyrinth's makeshift maternity ward. The source was a Japanese-American woman in a lab coat and horn-rimmed spectacles, who looked to be in her late twenties.

"So…nothing I haven't faced before, then," said Maggie, cracking a tired but genuine smile.

"That's certainly the spirit I'd like you to have," the doctor replied with a chuckle. She then turned to Elisa and bowed her head. "Kyoko Shirakawa, obstetrician. Jay – that is, Doctor Sato – told me a great deal about you all."

"Considering he's seen the inside of my guts, I hope he didn't go into _too_ much detail," Elisa couldn't help herself from joking. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you. Good to know my sis-in-law's in capable hands."

"It's certainly been… _ahem_ …a challenge. Sometimes I can still scarcely believe it myself," declared Doctor Shirakawa. "You should've seen my face the day Jay explained the nature of his 'consult.' I thought he was intoxicated at first!"

The three women shared a brief laugh, before the smile fell away from Maggie's face, and her voice lowered.

"Doctor Shirakawa…" she whispered, tugging on the woman's coat sleeve. "I know I've asked this about a hundred other things. But the hormone issue…you're _sure_ it won't be affected by my…my…"

The Japanese-American woman sighed. "I suppose there's no real way to be certain. We're dabbling in aspects of medical science that no one else has even _attempted,_ " she said, her words kind but also brutally honest. "What I _can_ tell you is that from every test I just ran, you and Thom are both perfectly healthy. And I'll be stopping by nightly for the next couple of weeks, just to make sure."

"You're too kind," Maggie told the other woman, hanging her head slightly. "I know you have a full load of patients at your day job. And it's not like we have any money to offer you."

"Well, I can't pretend I don't miss the sleep. But please, don't worry about it," responded Doctor Shirakawa. "I went into obstetrics for a reason: because nothing makes me happier than seeing the warm glow of a new parent. And between you and my other patients…there isn't a _single_ difference on that front."

"Have _you_ ever felt that glow?" asked Maggie, before turning aside and frowning. "Err…sorry if that's too personal."

The doctor didn't look offended – but she _did_ seem a bit sad. "Biology…wound up not being very cooperative, in my case," she murmured, her fingers briefly brushing her stomach. "We considered adoption, but right now the law isn't being all that cooperative, either. I'm not going to be a mother if the State of New York won't let my partner do the same."

Neither of the others were sure exactly what to say. A few seconds later, though, Maggie stated, "Derek and I are planning to get married sometime soon. But I doubt the state's going to recognize _that_ one, either."

"Marriage is… _wow,_ that's a little way's off," said Elisa, grimacing a bit. "But no _way_ is mine going to be legal. Eight-foot-tall stone statues can't exactly walk up to city hall and demand a marriage license."

The trio of young women looked at each other for a moment. Then, they burst out laughing again, this time much harder.

"Now I'm thinking we should start a support group," added the detective. "Welcome to our world, doc. It only gets weirder from here."

"Oddly enough, I'm actually looking forward to it. Though I don't know how 'normal' I ever was. The family I left back home – let's just say, they were in an… _unusual_ line of work," answered Doctor Shirakawa, as she began collecting her things and rose to her feet. "Now, I'll leave you folks to your business. I have to be back at Manhattan General by eight, so I should probably get in at least a _few_ hours."

"Thank you again, doctor," Maggie breathed out, clasping briefly at the other woman's fingers. "For everything."

The obstetrician bowed her head again, even more deeply. "Really, it was nothing," she said. "After all, from everything you just told me…it's not like I had to do much to avoid being the _worst_ doctor involved with this delivery!"

They shared one last chuckle, and then the bespectacled woman was gone.

Several moments passed in silence as the remaining two women were left alone – Thom still having somehow managed to sleep through all the commotion.

"I know some people say the best way to tire out a crying child is to take them on a drive," remarked Maggie, after some time had passed. "I guess a mysterious, supersonic flying machine counts too."

Elisa let out a lengthy sigh. "Mysterious is right," she muttered, reclining back in her chair. "Maybe I should be used to it by now, but there's still _so_ much about that last adventure we don't know. What Moreau really wanted. Who, if anyone, he was working for. Why he let us go so _easily_ …"

"Erm… _that_ was easy?" asked Maggie, raising her brow.

The detective shrugged one shoulder. "Well, comparatively," she said.

Another period of silence fell over them. When Maggie broke it again, her voice was far quieter, barely even audible.

"Elisa…about why I asked you to come here…" she mumbled, without making eye contact.

The other woman nodded, immediately giving the lioness-mutate her undivided attention. Maggie reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"I…wrote this right after we landed. Before everyone else showed up," she went on, her lip quivering slightly. "We don't exactly get mail service down here, so…umm…"

"Sure. I can add a stamp and stick it in the box," Elisa cut in, when Maggie didn't continue. "But can I ask what it is?"

The mutate still avoided her gaze, clutching Thom close to her chest. But eventually, in a tiny voice, she said, "It's…to my mom."

Elisa tensed up, remembering what Maggie had told her a couple nights ago. Before all this craziness went down.

"You said you hadn't spoken for a while," she recalled out loud, placing a comforting hand on the other woman's furred shoulder. "That she didn't know about…"

"About _this._ That's right," Maggie cut her off. "When I left…I said some awful things. Unforgivable things. I was lashing out, and trying to hurt her the worst way I could."

She placed a hand across her face, burying her eyes in it. "For a while, I decided it was best to leave things like that. She wouldn't have a daughter to miss that way," she gasped, through a choked sob. "But…now I see that I was kidding myself. She's the only part of my old family I have left. And…"

Maggie raised her son up to eye-level, before finishing, "And she deserves to know my new one just got a little bigger."

Suddenly, without any warning, Thom's tiny eyes shot open, and he began wailing at the top of his lungs.

" _Now's_ when he wakes up?!" Maggie exclaimed incredulously, but Elisa couldn't keep from chuckling a bit. Gently, she took the folded-up letter from the other woman's fingers.

"Don't worry. I've got this," she said. "Trust me…no matter how badly you two fought, your mom's gonna forgive you. I know from experience."

"I don't know about forgiveness," whispered Maggie, as she began to slowly rock her baby back and forth. "But I've decided to tell her everything. Or as much of it as she'll understand, at least. We…We'll see where it goes from there."

"Well, you know what they say. No man is an island. Or…woman, in this case," Elisa told her soothingly. "The point is, you have all of us to count on. Derek. Me. The gargoyles. The rest of the mutates. And _so_ many others. We all have your back on this."

Maggie blinked tears away from her eyes, and leaned forward – balancing the crying Thom in one arm, so she could use the other for an awkward half-hug.

"Thank you, Elisa," she choked out, carefully stroking her son across the cheek. "God…if there's one thing I'm grateful for…"

Her fur seemed to tickle him, and after a while his wails turned into giggling coos.

"It's that it's good to be home."

 **NEVER THE END…**


	8. End Credits

_**Gargoyles – The Island – End Credits**_

 _Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur._

 _The Walt Disney Company also own lots of other stuff which I totally didn't blatantly rip off a thousand times over in order to populate Beast Folk City._

 _A couple of which are instead owned by Warner Bros., for the record._

 _Ahem. The point is, I am poor and do not own any intellectual property of any meaningful value. Thank you._

[-]

 _Featuring the voice talents of…_

 **Thom Adcox-Hernandez –** Lexington, Additional Beast Folk

 **Tony Anselmo –** Clarence

 **Ed Asner** – Hudson, Burbank, Doctoral Committee Member

 **Dee Bradley Baker –** Curtis, Barry, Additional Beast Folk

 **Brigitte Bako** – Angela, Dessie

 **Roxanne Beckford –** Beth Maza, Additional Beast Folk

 **Claudia Black** – Minerva, Additional Beast Folk

 **Corey Burton –** The Doctor/Edward Prendick, Milton, Additional Beast Folk

 **Rocky Carroll –** Talon, Al

 **Tim Curry –** Doctor Anton Sevarius

 **Keith David –** Goliath, Thailog

 **Bill Farmer –** Vance

 **Zehra Fazal –** Shari, Kyoko Shirakawa

 **Kevin Grevioux –** Montgomery, Additional Beast Folk

 **Michael Horse** – Peter Maza

 **Bret Iwan –** Walter

 **David S. Lee** – Watson Doyle

 **Kate Mulgrew –** Anastasia Renard, Additional Beast Folk

 **Nichelle Nichols –** Diane Maza

 **Kevin Michael Richardson –** Thug, Additional Beast Folk

 **Salli Richardson –** Elisa Maza, Delilah

 **Kath Soucie –** Maggie the Cat, Barbara Reed, Additional Beast Folk

 **Benny Weisman –** Benny

 **Erin Weisman** – Erin

 _Special thanks to my learned colleagues in the_ **Age of Gargoyles** _Community. I'm so glad to finally be able to add a completed story to our sprawling, collaborative saga._

 _Check out the latest from_ **Algernon84 –** "Heroes of Ulster: Bad Blood," _as well as his first foray into a whole new spinoff,_ "Team Atlantis: The Deep."

 _Check out the latest from_ **Gryphinwyrm7** – "The Madness of Merlin," _as well as his upcoming tale,_ "Prey."

 _Check out the latest from_ **GregX** – "Aftermath," _as well as his upcoming tale,_ "War Stories."

 _The Doctor and his Island of poor, twisted souls will return…in one form or another._


End file.
